I looked under the sink, a Winchell’s mug; above
the dryer on the shelves with exiled scraps; below
a pack of dehydrated Sharpies, to the right
of poor Elmer, also parched. I might’ve left
it there when I was five…or six? I must’ve lost
it but don’t you think by 19 I would have found
it if it was ever somewhere at all? Not found
in the kitchen, the search continued above
bookcases and in the playroom cupboard where lost
army men meander, deserted souls beneath
the dictatorship of the cabbage patch doll left
regent in 1995. Nothing feels right
here exactly now anyhow. It’s like the right
fit doesn’t exist, but we keep trying to find
it anyway, just tasks we were left,
life’s scavenger hunt. There are above-
average foragers and then there’s me below.
Perennially a little girl wandering lost
after dark. I purchased a milk carton ad: Lost:
Purpose. Last Seen: In the vicinity just right
of Pre-K, near Little League. Description: Below
levels in useful but elevated in quirky. If Found:
Immediately contact the number above.
Insert Image Here: No picture was left
for identification, flying blind, all left
to imagination. Then I got a lead from the Lost
Boys. I never thought to search that far above
my grasp but followed the trail, two stars to the right
and then straight on till morning. Finding
Neverland was easier than being lower
to the ground. It was heaven being tucked in below
a blanket of stars. But I saw old bodies leave
indentations on the clouds and have found
it is better to be your everyday grown-up lost
self than risk falling like an overgrown child right
through the defunct billows of denial above.
I’ll keep searching above and below.
Right now it seems my Fate may be left
in lost and found.
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