... and then there was stuff.

stuff and things.

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When You Find It
Life is dumpster diving:
trying to find the good stuff...
trying to avoid sinking.

Sometimes it's slim pickings.

A sea of seamless, seemingly endless obstacles,
of séances and sendoffs.

We tread lightly, lest we lose our footing.

Love is the sought after, the useful, the satisfying:
the heavy bits stuck in place that help prevent sinking.

Love is the unexpired box of pasta on top:
the jackpot,
already wonderful but
exalted by circumstance and
fully appreciated in light of
the darkness.

If that doesn't sound pretty, it shouldn't.

The smell is always there.
Love is a clothespin for your nose.

Life is dumpster diving and
love is a weird poem written on the back of a coffee-stained city map.

It doesn't have to make sense;
you'll know what you're looking for when you find it.
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