There are two porches on the minds
Of everyone I know.
Fastidiously, the front porch primes
The thoughts that inward go.

The gossips throned upon their chairs
In circular formation,
Charge untoward thoughts outrageous fares
To ward off penetration.

Occasionally, like fly through screen,
A thought does make it through.
And there in mind's posh room of green
It has some time to brew.

A back porch thought is not, mind you,
A guaranteed solution;
But better is than front porch thoughts,
Primed full of rank pollution.

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