I'm Gonna

There are all these words missing from songs like "Love Is Simple" but in parentheses should say (when it happens) - but they don't write songs like that without conviction. Surely there's doubt, like the Munch bridge on the Michigan billboard minus a screaming face, all water at sunset and silhouetted treeline.

There are all these words missing from me when I go to look for them. Instead I'm left with fragments and glimpses of the puzzle - I know how these should fit, but they just don't. So do I accept or keep searching? Maybe under the couch, maybe somewhere in California.

When objects become lost, we look and, after searching for some time, forget. The object may have never really existed.

When we become lost, as in a thick wood, we look for familiar sights for grounding, to catch the bearings slipping away into anxiety; we move ahead, unsure, but desiring action that may stir some false confidence that may, like Pinocchio, become real - only our conscience is bewildered and cannot be our guide. There is no forgetting being lost: the condition is pervasive until resolved. Feet crunch, feet crunch, leaves, leaves, so many leaves, and all these trees - until the morning sun shines unencumbered and the morning birds wake from their slumber.

- Exit 97, Somewhere in Michigan