It's not that I can't find you. On days like today, you are absolutely everywhere for me and I find you in the clouds, at the drive-thru, on the sidewalk like loose change, in my pockets having survived the spin cycle. I find you tangled in the fringe of my eyelashes; I find you wound round the laces of an oldfavorite pair of shoes. I don't miss you, and when I find you, I don't welcome you back. I hear my own words echoing down a long dark mental hallway: Of course I never wanted you. I always had you.