Are we ever really lost, or are we just waiting?
Counting hours, counting days, counting planets
Delaying til the last moment, when, like the sun behind a cloud,
Epiphany! Yes, yes, yes.
Found objects become more meaningful,
Gaining significance because you discovered them at the right time
How is it a found object
If it was clearly left for me?
Just days later I forget it even exists
Kneeling at the altar of all the other things I’ve found
Like my grandmother said, when it rains, it pours
Maybe the idiom was right all along
Not a day goes by when I don’t wish for the pouring to stop
One year ago I might have felt very differently
Past, as my grandmother said, is past
Quick to come, wretched to go
Realize the epiphanies were never really epiphanies
Stars cross all the time, and no one cares until it is above them
Though I am grateful for presence, I long for absence
Understand it wasn’t always this way
Very recently, I haven’t found any objects at all
Whether stars cross or not is not my cross to bear
X marks the spot, but what spot?
You yearn for an answer that will never materialize
Zipping the object into your bag, to never be looked at again