It’s becoming 
difficult this
quiet saturation 
a drowning 
in satisfaction 
this almost 
nothing now 
normal new
my absolute 
absence from 
everything else 
an empty 
envelope addressed 
to no 
one and 
going nowhere 

Why is it 
that the thumpity 
thump of dryer 
balls and clothes 
make me think 
almost hypnotically so 
about things heretofore 
forgotten as familiar 
almost as though 
a distant heartbeat 
drums come home 

I’d always looked 
outside of myself 
for those things 
never sure why 
until I realized 
that when found 
in someone else 
when they left
they took them
that’s when I 
found them myself 
in plain sight 

I’ve often wondered 
if the tannin 
at the bottom 
of a bottle 
had wished that
it had wings 
and could have 
held on for 
a bit longer 
and been savored
and talked about 
during dinner rather 
than simply tossed
out like scraps 
at the end 
that even the 
dogs would ignore 

Very few people 
ever really care
from where they 
only seem to 
care about the 
there you are