I left a lighter in the side pocket of one of my favorite pairs of pants. Now, which lighter and which pair of pants? I don’t know. There are dozens of possibilities, and I haven’t cleaned my room for three weeks. For all I know, I won’t be able to find what I’m looking for until I’ve dug my way down to the bottom of my dirty laundry pile, launching said pile’s contents all across the room as I search. Even then, it’s not guaranteed that I’ll be thorough enough in searching to say with confidence that I’ve exhausted my options once the full pile of clothes has been torn up. I could have missed a pocket in a pair of pants while rifling through, facilitating another pursuit and forcing the question: do I really need to smoke that cigarette right now anyway? I could be spending this time cleaning my room once and for all (at least the one time for at least another three weeks). Oh, forget it. It’s time for a much-needed nap.


Author: Aidan Badinger I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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