Please: a word so short it could hitchhike
on a dragonfly\'s wing, buzzing its way heavenward,
hoping to fit into God\'s busy schedule. It wears a little suit,
politely knocking on celestial doors, leaving tiny notes
under stars. When ignored, it pirouettes back
like a rejected boomerang, morphs into awkward
hailstones, pelting the forgetful trees, nudging
earthworms awake. It lingers in shadowy puddles,
invites itself into gutters, mingling with strays.
And here you are, trudging through this damp parade,
every day a new baptism in absurdity.