A poem (sort of).

And the world is small, and the world is big, and the world is many things in between.  And love is not what I thought it was, nor what i think it'll be. And nothing much is what it seemed, or seemed to me, when things used to rhyme, or seemed that they did... And perhaps my wants are getting closer to the want, I wanted before I wanted anything, before I really knew what it was like to want, stomach ache want, fear want, empty want, eggs and peanut butter want, and thought that someday we'd all just have. And my wants and haves are different now, different than my seems and woulds, due to could haves and shoulds. I thought I'd have a specific should but I don't. A should to hang my hat on.  There were a lot of shoulds who seemed like shouldn'ts, and shouldn'ts who seemed like shoulds, and for the most part, they were mostly good. And you wake one morning, take a bath, and realize that there wasn't one that got away, that perhaps it was you that got away, and there you are. So you get out of the tub and you dry yourself off and get dressed for your day.


(I haven't written a poem since I was a teenager, please forgive me).