if I had been taught
to make objects by hand
that first time I rescued
furniture from the curbside
I might have been spared
all this scavenging—
the bargaining for distressed assets
the yearning with degenerates
for unearned wealth
the zero sum stuff.
if I had left my belongings behind and
approached new rapport as a cooper would
a rusted barrel stay that still
has mettle in it, I might not
have ended up in the wars.
we were out to sea.
it wasn’t only luck and blessings.
we didn’t know what we had
and that’s true because of me
even if you knew.
raindrops fall on memories we won’t make.
the cost of loss aversion is staggering
paid in fat reservoirs of lost time.
I get why people start over—
together while their motivation lasts
and then for real.
