I don't know where it goes when I don't watch it;
It's tricky and nervous, easy to scare.
Though I strike like a rattler, I can't catch it;
I jump and turn around--it's always there.
I've tried windows, but it's too smart for that trick;
I end up looking like a Peeping Tom.
I've tried the old mirror-stuffed-in-my-hat trick;
It winks and blows me kisses, like my mom.
But still I'm sure the moment my back's to it,
Away it flies on some fantastic trip;
I just can't seem to catch the bugger do it!
But I keep waiting for that fatal slip--
One day I'll catch it, and that will remind me
What pleasure to find empty air behind me.
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