I know things exist
They are all pictured, exquisitely, on the internet
On poster walls
Partly it’s the feeling
An ache
That says
That something else is better
Something else is correct
Partly it’s the knowledge
That I didn’t want it in the first place
Partly it’s the knowledge
That I have exactly what I wanted all along
There is nothing in a couplet
that exposes meaning
it’s only in the word
alone
or in the middle of so many other words that it’s drowning and waiting for something to stand out from the bunch and just say something anything really that would have the potential to get at the heart of any matter that matters to you
but all
the talking
but all
the words
don’t amount
to that thing that very dream you wonder about.
Nothing answers the question
Especially when
Asking is unpermitted