letting lost things find you

you are somewhere. you are someone. it is tuesday morning. and you have no motivation. not even to fix that last telling line because those clear warby parker glasses vanished. again. the second pair. the first pair disappeared whenever it disappeared. you checked the lining of north face coat and vest and synchillas and unzipped downbelow and sidewaysupabove pockets and nope. and the garage on the shelf above the ladder and under the seats of the cherokee and even on the work bench in the shed and on the stereo shelf in your studio. and then you gave up. and that was a month ago. maybe. like how love arrived at the age of twenty-nine after you had stopped looking. then two children, four hamsters, two cats and a dog. and you realized at sixty to stop looking for your dreams to arrive on clouds or balloons or zeppelins or alien cruisers. Some things you lose. and the things you always wanted found you along the way anyway. or didn’t and won’t but that’s crazynuts life again. so you wear your third-best glasses which are really discards from wife that mostly work for the first twenty minutes until the edges blur and fuzz like periscoping an up-above world. and this is the easy part, you remember. sitting in a chair making stuff up.