Tonight I misplaced my glasses somewhere between
the gas station on 31, a pizza pickup down the street,
and hitting a few aisles at the market for basics.
First, I took the car apart like a narcotic agent
looking for cocaine embedded in the upholstery,
then methodically retraced my steps beginning
with clerks at all 3 establishments but none had
collected a pair of clear glasses with thin silver frames
(although the assistant manager at Kroger did offer me
a pair of black frame readers
that had been in lost & found now for weeks.)
Like a detective looking for clues at a crime scene
instead of $70 glasses among bags of baby carrots,
I left no wheat loaf unturned, the twist being
the inspector is secretly also the prime suspect.
Truth is, I often retrace the steps of my journey,
sweeping the emotional equivalent of a metal detector
along the ground, looking for relics of my past
like some here in Franklin turn the soil
looking for arrowheads or civil war bullets.
And sometimes I revist my more recent navigations,
usually at the end of the day-- retracing decisions,
actions and conversations, often
wishing I could re-enlist sounder reasoning,
launch fewer regrets, and
re-draw the outcomes.
--rLp--
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