You came to me
In a dream.
Together we looked
For a glass figurine.

We finally found
The transparent bird
In an antique drawer
Split in thirds.

I pressed the pieces
Against one another--
Our love,
Like an invisible glue.

For, that little bird
regained its wings
and away you flew.

You were at peace,
Ready to leave.
And I made a promise:
I'll take care of your girls
(Your glass figurines).

so what do we do when all is left are figurines
gifted in the unholiest of manners
and the crusties in my eye when i awake
are no longer their
since sleep is a distant memory

and all the tides of highs and lows
simmer to a stagnant plateau
because days no longer carry weight
surmounting to popcorn on a string
--one just like the last--

suddenly a day
--popcorn with extra butter and just a pinch of salt--
comes and shakes the bland you into something recognizable
a sparkly-eyed realist with an unusually magnetic personality
drawn from absolutely nothing
but the reality that life goes on
and we just have to be aware of peoples polarity

*s.q.