the return of lost things

suddenly

all the lost objects

re-appear.

one guitar pick

camouflaged tortoiseshell

on the table

and wait, here are two more,

here are those pink knee socks

(whore socks, Junior called em)

and look here,

on the ground,

a spare key,

ninety dollars worth of gold.

all the lost things returning

from their place of ether

here comes that smart guy from school,

the nice one, strolling across the aisle,

and the soulmate, she's back too,

singing those shiny radiant songs

fueled by grapes and cheese.

another friend pops her head in the window,

says 'help me with this wedding'

and the old guy wants to

watch the old dog

like in the old days.

broken webs repaired,

like magic.

there's Hugo, the deer with three legs

maybe he'll find his lost leg in

river's rivulet over there,

in the dark woods.

let's dream big

fill up space with grand dreams

of beautiful new lives

dreams multiplying into infinity

with Hindu goddess arms.

How about a restored frontal lobe?

Pure untainted flesh?

A whole family on holiday?

Belief in real enraptured love?

Trust, purpose?

Casting those fine dreams

up into the fine air

like a pink blonde witch,

up into the giant question mark

of giant arms and hands

where they'll get sorted

while I tend the garden.