I ponder the system's shortcomings and mine.

I'm hung up on the answer

I know was incorrect

because I googled it after the test.

I am gutted by these slaphappy smarties

who gulp down gray matter with their morning smoothies.

It is awkward here,

on the cusp of simpleness and intellect.

Suddenly, my phrenic unrest

is interrupted by saffron-flowered trees

shedding their petal potpourri

into a confetti typhoon that rises

to fight, with dazed delight,

my caffeine-frazzled mood.

Petals flake and flutter down like crisp ash

in a golden dream

to a pool of color splash,

and the yolk of my cares is whisked to a cream

by this floral rain-

this strange yellow hurricane.