Enigma

I still don’t know
what it is.

I paw at it,
pet it
shine it up
only to have it run away.

Sometimes it’s a whisper,
sometimes an actual shape, smell,
taste on my tongue; other times
the constellation of a wish
in the star-spilled sky
just past my grasp
winking as if to say,
“I’m right here. Where are you?”

I tied a string to it once,
trying to make it stay,
but it comes and goes as it pleases
and that’s the point, I suppose
though I still have the uneasy feeling
there must be some trick to it
that I have yet to discover.

It does not come
in a six-pack.
I have checked.

 

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