My B-side

A bird may love a fish, but where would they live... They’d live in an apologetic painting of a couple lost in love Or in a red dress, the cornerstone of an enchanted evening. They’d live in a hollowed gumball, a lucky shade of neon pink Or in a cup of hot cocoa that warms the winter air. They’d live in a rusty old barn, next to the poor hobo Or in a shoebox of goodies shipped from across the country. They’d live in rare raspberry filled candies Or in bantering teddy bears. They’d live in photo albums and scrapbooks Or in scented letters, miles and miles from home. They’d live in coat pockets among secret notes Or next to a written wish inside a paper airplane. They’d live in sound of the ocean; made by a flooded river Or in the echo’s of a quiet hotel stairwell. They’d live in the library on the shelf next to Catch 22 Or in Nine Horses, wedged between pages 29 and 30. They’d live in Cassiopeia, Calliope, and Orion Or in the infamous number seven. They’d live in the always-present irony Or in the fate of serendipity They’d live in infectious laughter Or in the golden hour of three a.m, They’d live inside one another In their memories and in the past.