Don’t bother wondering

where it went—it didn’t go far. Most days

your life just waited, kept up with others’ misfortunes

by watching Oprah out of the corner of its clear

wide eye while it tarnished the silver and hoped

you’d come home and take it out dancing.

It listened for the sound of tires

turning into the drive and when they didn’t,

your life turned the crackers

stale and laid down dust on your

souvenirs, daring you to notice. Then

it breathed a steady layer of boredom—

or was it regret?—

onto every single windowpane

just to tone down the veracity

of the fading light.

That day it grew resentful, it went out

and rusted the light fixtures

on the east side of the house, then rotted

the second step on the deck, idly pushing its heel

into the soft, dreamless decay until its attention

caught on the wind, left your life wondering

where it could go.