Today, I Feel Collapsable

It's not what's missing that is gone
Not the other side that's come around
Not the bars to the cage that are bent and descending
Not the ladder that reaches
nor the dark pool colliding
Not anywhere in between here and there
Not foresight or hindsight
Not the square root of some new personality
Not the happiness I've found
Not the way the door swings
Not the shelves lined with reprints
Not the ambidextrous power outlets
Not the line in the sand drawn by the waves
Not the point that reflects the cube
Not the sun in my eyes
Not the immense realization of the little things
Not the underfunded research of earthworm philosophy
Not the strange imbalance of the perfect chair
Not the spaceship with fins
Not the intentions being good in spite of the results
Not the introductory remarks at the beginning of a eulogy
Not the one apple sitting in an otherwise empty fridge
Not the giant elephant tied to submission by a string
Not the third grade report card your parents never signed
Not the decision they made after the chamber doors shut
Not the crack in the glass that first emptied it to the halfway point
Not much else but this, right here, today

And today...well
Today, I feel collapsable.