five napkins

five paper napkins
in an empty
brown field
tumbling about
in the steady gales
amorphously shifting
and every
now and then
the wind gets
beneath one
and i smile so big
at the momentary flight

i didn’t stop
to consider that
playful scraps of paper
weren’t cognizant
of the wonder
but the second
the errant thought
disturbed my reverie
i felt the smile fade
as reality
reasserted itself
strangling joy
and i realized
i was watching trash
momentarily soar

if garbage can
why not me

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