Passport from Irrationality

I am absurd! How does my mind work?

Is there an actual thought process? Or is it a jumble of missing spark plugs? Should I look for the missing spark plug? If I look for it in a closed-up garage, will Humphrey Bogart rescue me? Would Humphrey/Linus rescue me? Or are happy endings just that? An ending? Where is my beginning? Waiting. Where is my life? Where is what I want? Where is what I want to do? The bottom of the list. The never-ending line through immigration. Go to the back of the line. Walk. Run. Plod.

I am an irrational. An irrational national.

I pledge allegiance to the irrational state of Mary.