Tissue
A poem from 2020, when all of us wanted to be free.
It escaped a pocket, bounced
across the pavement, zig-zagged
with the errant breeze.
I chased after it
Bent to snatch it back
When it skittered away.
It paused as if to plot its path
Infused with its own life
Perhaps a dream of freedom
From the slog of daily cares.
Then it burst forth again
Only to be stopped by a curb.
Aha! I've got you now!
I raced to take advantage
When the wind flung it
In another direction.
I picked up speed
Despite my aching joints
Not wanting it to spoil
This pristine parking lot.
No litter anywhere but this
Rebellious bit
Of wadded fiber glancing
Off cracks and curbs.
The gap widened between us.
I finally gave up.
It was much too quick.
And as it disappeared around the corner
Did I hear it giggle and proclaim
I'm free! I'm free!
I sighed with guilt at having lost control
Then slipped my hand into my pocket
Where I found my wadded tissue
Still in place. I looked around
The deserted lot and laughed.