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Not just saying, ‘Now what did I come for?
My glasses? The paper? Oh dear,
I’ve got to go back where I started
To work out what I’m doing here.’

It's moaning, 'My god, what's that rumbling?
A fire? Or the gas boiler gone?’
The dash to the kitchen, revealing
You've just put the dishwasher on.

It’s feeling your toothbrush for dampness
To tell if you missed your teeth out,
And re-checking the locks, and the switches,
But still having moments of doubt.

It’s finding two bags in your tea-mug,
It’s leaving your keys in the door,
It’s opening the fridge, not the oven,
And knowing you’ve done this before.

But it’s re-reading Agatha Christies -
It’s fine, you’ve forgotten the plots -
And it’s dreading you’ve run out of sugar
Then seeing you’ve stored seven lots.

And it’s being surprised at the ending
Of a film that you’ve already seen.
And it’s thinking, ‘I must set the table’
And finding the fairies have been.