Thin Air

 

A poem about an increasingly familiar feeling:

 

Thin Air

 

it's an untethered balloon

already out of reach

 

it's a pub-quiz answer

you know you know but can't recall

 

on the tip of your tongue

but no further

 

it's the reason you are at the top of the stairs, wondering

and the reason you will have to go back down, empty handed

 

I had an idea

so clear and brilliant

that I didn't write it down . . . 

     

I know it exists by the hole it left behind

I can't picture the picture

behind that negative space

 

I need a clue (or two)

to reboard that train of thought

 

It's escaped 

like space junk,

floating away .  .   .    .     .