Stuck With Spit

hollow to fall into
hollering as we descend

at times, where you walk
is not solid ground
some hands you shake
are not people’s at all

what if someone
you’re having a relationship with
is instead no one

reach for them in bed
and there is no one

attempt to kiss or to embrace
and who you thought substantive
crumbles like chips

instead of substance
in your hands and in your life
what, who you attempt to hold
is mist in your fist

in life, a lot of balls we swing at
we miss

still awaiting Miss So And So
to become Mrs. Smith


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
4:29 p.m. 09/09/07