scavenger hunt

there isn't much in this rambling memory of you
bits of trash from different sundry evaluations
your image clinging to the dirty dishes
the noises of that music in the anteroom

he waves a forlorn palm hoping for someone prescient
these are merely errors lining the cage's pan
covered with the headlines from the gossip of need
splattered with my own disingenuous shit

the rooms I walk through every night they are
crowded with lost delight empty of even an ancient promise
the houses are half constructed the old ones unrepaired
every step is new every journey is mirrored on a map

in the dream state spit licking time do I stroke my hammer
in anticipation or defeat, dream hunger in Illinois
stuck in a land out of time one stone impediment
or another washed with the bitter seed

or is there an arc here, a memory made into an image,
committing neither error nor ambiguity?
the sequence of events; not the critical disinformation
is it really just a scavenger hunt through this life?

who made up this list? some of these items never existed
somebody stole my copy of the rules, darkness fell too soon
was there even a prize, or was that too part of the game?
when will I just sleep again, ever?