Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋

fuzzy word

a particular word
fuzzy
he rolled across the carpet
of his empty mind
to see
what it would pick up --

lint beneath the table
holding a burnt out lamp

a sock from beneath the chair
no longer reclining
where he unclothed
down to his undies
the night before

a cat toy that squeaked
but dropped back down,
drew feline eyes
from the top of the stairs
where below

a word
growing faint
rolled around
like a quarter on its edge,
destined to spin out
fall down
atop --

the very spot
she would giggle,
where they played horsey
and she yelled, 'again!'
so the steed lowered its back
that she might hop on

and the word fell flat
-- suspended --
as a rush whooshed past
into thin air,
vapor.

his smile sank
into a pale form
on two knees
wishing he
could roll another
fuzzy word across time,
boomerang it back
to a moment that could last
forever.


10.22.20 (45 lines)

forever

forever

for--

repeating it won't make it so.

(above, alternative ending)

I didn't know what I was going to write before I started this. Some poetry just needs an image as a vehicle to take the poet on a ride, a journey through a space that can break the laws of time and dimension to seek a beautiful place to preserve, even if it means collecting a few word friends along the way.

added thought - do overs don't exist, unless a penalty is involved. but who is going to whistle the play dead, with so many infractions committed over a life? no referee truly exists in this game.

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