An Expectation of Stillness

Where to the odd spoons come from?

Where do the lost socks go?

Where is the place?

Is it someplace in space?

Am I part of a magic show?

Where is the dress I was saving for some day,

now that someday’s here?

The inanimate world has rules of its own

that are not entirely clear.

It’s interface with humanity has been posited as a cause,

but I’m telling you, I put it right there;

I know right where it was.

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