Like muscles shorting out,
If this ends before stanza number four,
Give nine one one a shout,
Though it feels like it just moved from my leg,
I'd think it was my phone,
Reach into the left pocket of my pants,
Realize it's in my right, hand's all alone,
Maybe it's a tiny beast on a tour,
Where will it end up next?
If I were it, I would check out my butt,
I'd be sure that's no text.
Maybe the brain,
It'd be scary, I know,
Make you think, I'm sure, about life and death,
But a thrilling place for that beast to go!