Missed A Spot
Like a chocolate or wine stain,
splattered upon your favorite purple
tee shirt, these rhymes and reasons
don’t wash out, forever leaving
tell-tale traces of misspent intent.
You try your best to go back,
to recalculate just what went wrong,
as if you could determine the precise
moment, when everything that could
head in the wrong direction, did so
with both gusto and glee. Wonder
wanders in to question the sanity
of rehashing patterns of behavior,
of taking long second looks, like
remembering a lost love.
When the reality is, when examined
close enough, anything will reveal
that petulant missed spot- that one
you just cannot remove.