disjointment

And then thinking without belief    
I enjoyed wickedness of their disjointment,  
And intriguing connected thoughts,  
And then it’s quiet in the garden  
Where a voice is before me with an orchid flower,    
and discombobulated talk  
Dodging spilled tears over butter sauce and bibs    
Should I cover their ears during the hissy fit?  
   
I wondered...  
   
How could I ever say when I found the lobster dead?    
It broke my heart; I overheard the boys,    
They were in the hall chatting over a tale of it  
Mumbling over grouchiness and indifferences    
Acceptance between belief and thinking,    
And then I recognized their coordinated socks