writing poems of love from the lost and found

you go to the closet in the school office,
for having been realtime been schooled in the mischances
of ill-iteration of life enhancing love stories, teach says:

the only peace now to be find from another lost soul
in the cardboard box of one right glove and one left sock,
ugly scarfs, mismatched two left ventricles, hats with lice,
sneakers good for nothing, but maybe some comfort for the lost,
for in the midst of the other miscellanies tales of lost one’s,
a match, good enough, can be found

makes no sense but perfect in its nonsensicality,
a word perfected script of his life, the chest pains too real,
to the gathering of the found, then lost souls, he retires,
perusal of assorted messes, textiles of the human variety,
a good enough accident will be stumbled on, hope restored

it is December and school is closing for winter vacation,
going home with one hand and one heart unsheathed
is not tenable, parent-able and just impracticable given
the coldness of isolation, a mismatched mitten selectee chosen

the yellow hell-o bus ride home is full of tortious interference,
the mismatching hand covering is an announcement of
‘please ridicule the loser’ that will be great, great fun,
I considering doing the undone, that hiding in the
lost and found for two weeks is mighty tempting and
a realistic possibility

slings and arrows of verbal definition slung and spat,
the general hysteria to his Travel & Entertainment account expensed,
but the gentlest shotgun tap of a hand upon his back, reveals a
folded scrap of a notebook page cornered in a cashmere gloved,
in her hand container, taken and secreted for in private-perusal

an address, an email unspoken written invitation to please contact
if you’re home, not going vacationing anywhere (ha!), me neither,
let’s get together, get married, have three kids, and get the hell
out of this frozen hearted land of misery

so I would like to tell you that is indeedy what happened,
so that is what I’ll tell you in fact, that,
that is exactly
what occurred with two more trips to the L & F
for different colleges, different coasts, different continents,
more lost and founds of accidental lost luggage meetings,
long distance loving worn down, too hard, lost, time eroded

till came the realization that love from
the lost and found
might be a meant to be message,
cause those words always end in...
found

I look back at our late-night conversation,
It was the first time I've heard your voice
I knew I was the slightest bit of anxiety
My fingers were a little cold
And I might have felt it trembling
But when you spoke,
Your voice lit up the fireplace in the room
And my hands began to grow warmer and warmer
As your airy words go fluttering from the speaker to my ear
I slowly felt cozy and the bit of alcohol from a while ago crawled back up
My words were unimpaired and free
The simple exchange of nonsensicality and infinite laughters
When we said good night,
I lay in bed looking at the ceiling
But all I see is pitch black
So I think about the look on your face
As we laughed at your stupid stories
and the pitter-pattering around your house
I wondered about the future events
If I pushed the green button again
But I just stayed there,
And waited
'Til I fell asleep