Gaps

Everything slips away if you can’t hold on.

Gold falls so fast through my fingers
I could fly my own air plane
At dawn and be bankrupt by sunset

But first, I’ll cut my heels on seashells,
Be poetically enamored of the ocean
In the summer and come home
To watch some graceful others
Skate across rivers of
melting ice.

Daily I’ll long to close the gaps
That keep me from holding anything-
Money, someone else, myself.