Spring Scale

the weight of things.

the scales have been tipped

because logic’s become light as a feather

and the heart strings have grown exponentially

perhaps with the help of protein bars

and a couple extra servings of pasta

 

the emotions are tying you down

weighting your jeans as you jump in the pool

and the water just seeps through the cotton

as you struggle to stay afloat

the boat greets in passing

but keeps on trucking

past your little predicament

 

is it a pond now?

not a pool, it would seem

i can see the ducks now that you mention it

maybe they’ve taken your logic away

and dropped it just as they were leaving

so it’s in the haystack

if ever you’re looking

it won’t take too long

if you set out the time

 

but perhaps it doesn’t want to be found?

who’s to say that the needles are just for prodding

and pinching

and poking

and that they’re not just running away

on hundreds of pointed feet

through the fields

and the meadows

and the sandcastles

 

the little shell windows might even be open

to let the light in

while the rain comes pouring inside

and the little turrets start to melt

engulf the mote and the ceiling

till the inside becomes the out

and the balance of emotion

and common sense

start sizing each other up