when it flew out the window

all

day i chase

the piece

of paper that has flown

out the window

of the car.

i pull over

and park

and begin to run after it.

but the wind

has it

in its soft hand, toying

with it,

playing with me,

like a dog

with a bone.

it won't let go.

it's not even an important

piece of paper,

there is nothing on it

that will

change my life if it's lost,

and yet,

i want it back.

i don't like it when things

get away from

me

like that.