Poemfish

Night swimming

 

I often wonder about the things we lose.
Where do they end up?  Are they really gone
forever, or do they resurface beneath someone
else's fingertips, rediscovered by a new pair
of eyes?  Can memories and moments ever truly
be lost?  Or are they floating somewhere, moving
in and out with the current, always there,
hoping to be remembered in dim coffee shop,
through a late-night conversation with an old
friend or as we linger before waking from a dream ~
almost understanding.

 

Perfection

 
Perfection pretends to be my friend,
but then why is she always trying to fold me
into an origami crane and stuff me
in the pocket of a pair of old jeans
that is way too tight? 
She follows me everywhere,
always telling me what I did wrong
and how I "missed a spot". 
She thinks she is helping. 
She thinks she is cute ~
her pretty little dress and
that tight braid hanging down her back. 
But today I am telling her to back off. 
Let her clean her own house,
make her own bed. 
I've got more important things to do.
Life, is waiting . . .