It's not a deficit of attention.
On the contrary,
there's an abundance of attention,
with a sensory overload to match.
The Creator, for some impish reason,
didn't bother to install a stimulus filter
in the brains of some of us:
butterflies, cabbage moths, hummingbirds
and me. You too, perhaps?
Like the rip-tide in swift river
where the flow converges
at the downstream end of an island --
and at the mouth of that river,
when the wind is blowing onshore --
there's bound to be turbulence
where the flow of thoughts collide.
With unfiltered sensations
from the usual five senses
plus a few more that, for now,
we'll call intuition and inspiration,
trying to get something accomplished
is a bit like boiling a 3-minute egg in a geyser.
Making a decision is similar to
pointing out your favorite snowflake
before it hits the wet pavement.
If you prefer,
imagine the life of a goldfish in a lava lamp.
It's not like a hurricane with a headache --
not so organized or directional.
Rather, more like an electrical storm:
with lightning sky to sky and sky to ground,
sudden cracks and ominous rumbles
that no one can hear but us.
You may see it in my eyes sometimes,
when you're talking to me
but you're not sure if I'm tuned
to the same channel.
Salmon know what it's like,
swimming upstream through the rapids,
leaping above the whitewater now and then
to gain some distance.
Paradoxically, we sometimes hyperfocus,
with steel-wire determination, unable to let go.
Despite the turbulence,
Salmon are intent to spawn and die.
And so, I suppose, must I.