Things, Part one

There are twelve kinds of things:
There are squishy things.  
There are scary things.
There are blue things.
There are things you squeeze out of a tube.
There are singing things.
There are stinky things.
There are things that easily fall apart.
There are murky things,
And drippy things 
There are things that go bang in the night.
There are filmy things.
There are radishes.
But there are no thing-like things.
The asphalt is tickled by my feet.

        
Things, Part Two (Afterthought)

Is the asphalt really tickled by my feet, 

Or is that only a metaphor

By which I have dressed up this vast conglomerate of 
	random billiard balls which is really billiard balls
 	and remains so despite its vastness,  

Despite my dressing it up as a child might dress up her
	little sister in mother's discarded clothes so 
	that she appears to be something other than herself?

Wanting both to clarify and in the responsible modern 
	manner to verify this matter which remains of 
	concern to me (even though I have been chastised for
	my adolescent preoccupations), 

I took off my shoes and ran down the street.

How the blue sky enlivened my senses and, 

Yes!

I thought I heard giggling behind me!