Every now and then
One of them emerges
Like a drowning vacationer
Flailing his arms
Desperately
Yet everytime
you somehow manage
To miss them
Long enough
For them to sink deeper
Than ever before
Yes,
Its better
Than diving in there,
Going against the current,
Thrashing forth,
Arm over arm,
Over arm over arm,
Until you reach them,
Coughing up tales,
You’ve dreaded telling
Why the hell
Should you bring them,
Back to shore?
The days, the weeks, the months,
Of tidily organized
Disorder
Strewn about
For everyone to look at
And turn their noses up to
As if the sea
Harbours none of their secrets
Yet you know
That before anyone
Is to ever reach
Your deepest depths
You’ve got
Some cleaning to do
Man overboard
Things People Say