déjà vu

I think I must have eaten a hook,
The roof of my mouth is quite sore.

I am speeding alone effortlessly.
There is no wind in my face
I'm still submerged.

Déjà vu has me gripped.

I'm getting high on oxygen
Gill swill, Oh what a rush.
This must be what speed is like.

My what an attractive fly.

Déjà vu has me blooded.

Now I remember, now I get it.
I'm such a slow thinker.
Caught again, hook, line and sinker.
©2018 Christopher Thompson

Written in England 29-07-18
Rush poetry   7.45pm - 7.55pm  BST.