Dumpster Diving for Your Love – Canto XIV
Amidst the flux of life's common fears,
Assuaged by myriad wellness paths that wind,
We muse on why such contradictions appear,
What truth, what falsehoods, in them we find.
Is all this but a game, to cheer
The poet's whims, with thoughts in mind?
A gambler's thrill with these verses cast,
A bet on meaning; chances vast, so vast.
This playful weave of words, a sharp critique,
Of the internet's vast realm for truths sought.
Unbound like a house of leaves, dull, unsleek,
So many anxious voices and tumultuous lots.
Yet here, through poetry, we dare to speak,
Expose the hypocrisies in each tangled plot.
A game of chance, each stanza, each rhyme,
May yet show treasures unburied by time.
At Sandy Palms, early summer's heart beats warm,
John Johnson's charm unfolds with grace.
Adaptable, he rides each socially-canceled storm,
In live streams shines, his talents embrace.
Alert in talks, his words perform,
A dance of minds, in this sunlit space.
No arguments he feeds, but humors well,
Each guest and heart comes under his spell.
His TikTok dances, a viral delight,
Capture the eyes, attention of many.
Especially the women, whose days and nights
Revel in gestures small and plenty.
Here Fitzie B., with her wild, flighty plights,
Shows interest deep, her intentions uncanny.
Married yet distant, she watches John,
Her husband absent almost all along.
Addy, older by days, yet so so wise,
Sees Fitzie's gaze, her heart perturbed.
For John, naive, an unexpected prize,
A concern in her, deeply stirred.
To Henry she speaks, her husband, her tie,
His counsel simple, undeterred:
"Let it be," he says, then seeks healing heat,
In sauna's solitude, his nightly retreat.
Thus stands our scene, a web of lives entwined,
Where Addy's thoughts with worry are lined.
No love affair with John designed,
Just lives of youth by folly defined.
Her life with Henry, a contrast signed,
A marriage of moods, opposites bind.
With fiber-optic threads are these tales spun,
This story’s complexities are never done.