A Missing Pencil

February 6, 2008
By Melissa Matzker, Pleasantville, NY

I see them pat their chest pocket
a perturbed look upon their face
lips pursed, eyes in disarray.
They’d swear to you it was there a second ago.

I see them take their palms and bang against the table
searching under ungraded papers
or overdue tax returns.
I mistake all this for rage
and cower back in my seat
in sheer and utter fear.

I can’t help but feeling
I am in some jungle setting
simply observing a hunt
an angry large wooly gorilla
a mother slamming her tough-skinned fists
upon the ground
chasing after a large silverback
who just so happened
to steal her last bamboo shoot.

I can’t help but empathize
With this large, tough-skinned creature
or simply careless human being.
The endless search for something that isn’t there
the things we tend to see
in a different shade of light than reality
the many things we swore we left
in places they mysteriously disappeared from.

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