sparks

when it all stops
out comes that something
that something extraordinary
that i used to try to describe to my friends
futile descriptions
ones where i search the tip of m tongue for a word that doesn't exist in my mind

sometimes my extraordinary something
is small
like how people often say
that they're alright
when all is not right
that tiny, extraordinary something
sparks my thoughts

sometimes my extraordinary something
is walking up the hill
and realizing that sometime,
i will not remember exactly what that street looks like
stopping
and spinning in a circle
turning slowly to try to capture what i will eventually lose
and my mind will distort this view
and someday it will only be the imagined view
that i made up in my mind
like stories of my childhood
stories told to me
about me
that i adopted as my own memories
my used-to-view
will join them
and that sparks my thoughts

sometimes my extraordinary something
is big
a big, extraordinary something
like those stolen looks across halls
later wondering who they're stolen from
later wondering until the looks creep into my dreams
those sly looks
stealing my sleep

like when what i am looking for is hidden in plain sight
and all i have to do is see through the opaque walls
or the camouflage
and find my extraordinary something
right there
all this time

like when letting go
is the hardest thing
and the best thing
at the same time

sometimes i sit down and write
i write about my extraordinary things
and that sparks my thoughts