String in a Pocket

By Sam Ferland

There is a string in your pocket
With lint among other things
There the same way anything gets anywhere
It happens, happened, is yet too,
Different from a current
on the river bed we watch it 
There was a naked person who jumped in 
A red sign said not too
as well as the teacher
One that taught what matters – 
A spark in your mind follow it 
into a pocket
Next to the lint
from the scrape of a cramped hand
rubbing off
dark shades of fabric
Accumulating 
reaching downwards a hole
walking towards
the dull pencil told to sharpen,
that never did it’s hard to see 
through the trees –
The situation of walking or not it happens to us
The space between a trailhead
and the car
The person who jumped in the current 
is there I couldn’t say 
where their string is now