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Description
I want to do something meaningless,
something instinct has ignored
and my mind has not thought of,
counting pomegranate seeds and forgetting the numbers
and making wishes on three-leaf clovers,
and saying what I mean without
filling it with metaphors
or secret messages,

because there’s been enough of those,
too much, and I’ve thrown
my decoder ring out the window.
Oblivious is now my closest friend
(but not my best one, I don’t know
if she’s good for me)

and I’m trying not to hear what goes on
between letters, in the spaces and gaps
left by the end and beginning of each word,
like floating bottles from desert islands,
carrying an SOS and a prayer
that is doomed to never be fulfilled,

because no one will bother to answer
except the children,
because they still believe in superheroes and
don’t know the currents flow in one direction
and never back,
but the adults will stop them because
they know, and when as children they sent out
their own bottles, there were never
rescue ships on the horizon
and never any bottles washing up on their islands,
there was only never.