sitting in a chair making stuff up

you are somewhere. you are someone. it is tuesday morning. and you have no motivation. not even to fix that last telling line because you lost your warby parker tortoise shelled glasses, 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. but you don’t really care anymore. either things will find you or they won’t. 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 realize just stopped looking for 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 you are looking at the down periscope at an up-above world. and this is the easy part, you remember. letting lost things find you. knowing those you love still love you.