When You Find It

Life is dumpster diving:

trying to find the good stuff...

trying to avoid sinking.


Sometimes it's slim pickings.


A sea of seamless, seemingly endless obstacles...

of séances and sendoffs.


We tread lightly, lest we lose our footing.


Love is the sought after, the useful, the satisfying:

the heavy bits stuck in place that help prevent sinking.


Love is the unexpired box of pasta on top:

the jackpot,

already wonderful but

exalted by circumstance and

appreciated fully in light of

the darkness.


If that doesn't sound pretty, it shouldn't.


The smell is always there.

Love is a clothespin for your nose.


Life is dumpster diving and

love is a weird poem written on the back of a coffee-stained city map.


It doesn't have to make sense;

you'll know what you're looking for when you find it.  

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