The Best Things in Life

The best things in life can’t be window wiped.
They scatter at sudden movements like dandelion seeds
or moths circling the unsteady porch light.
They cast impossible shadows, slanting west
when the sun is setting and sharp south at high noon.
They don’t know the boundaries of their own shapes
and go on Keto diets when they know they love carbs.
The best things in life make a pretty poor sandwich.
Some were abandoned in the throat of a flytrap.
Some laugh too loud in church, stopped
talking a long time ago.
A red-faced one is staring at you from the bar.

The best things in life forgot your name like an asshole.
They’re at the casino gambling away their assets.
They wrote a rant then deleted it.
They won’t speak to you unless you master Arabic
and refuse to be surgically extracted: they are
the arterial splints that save your lexicon.
The best things in life could kill you.
They save that one perfect sentence for the moment before detonation.
People will try to paint them with the right adjectives and inspired nouns.
The best of the best will deny.
The water moves around them so you’ll never be sure of your aim.
What my father said.

A flawed theory but I believed him.
The best things in life are easily lost: one spill and the mistake is engraved.
They’re a lot like the rest of us: underslept, a little anxious, and
kicking to break the surface.
The best things in life are in a package on your doorstep.
Your neighbor took it.
The best things in life are sleeping in our laps
on the porch we never had, swatting away moths.
Sleep is the loss of priorities and all things are equal.
Sometimes I moor close to the dark just to see it splinter.
The best things in life were almost mine
could have been yours
should have.