a sitting search

to sit and search, to type, to scroll

with cursor in hand,

the lazy afternoon exploited

forgotten are the gilded pools above the earth at sunrise,

potential and love and harmony and unity

and all that seems beautiful

in theory

where, waldo, are you?

walking among men meant to hide you

content, or smiling, never to be found

a passive and sweeping search is made,

knowing you're not lost; you're fine, you're fine.

a sitting search and cursory glance

a type, a scroll.

a type to fit, this square pegs the round whole

the cursor, the pointer,

the typing, the scrolling,

the recreating and shaping and forming,

the never fulfilled sees the ever content

and cursing, and poignant - where, where, waldo are you?

alone, alone, and with everyone else

surrounded, sufficient, eye on a lens and cane in hand

to see with, to lean on, and scrolling - no - strolling.

and all that seems beautiful, seems enough for you

in the lazy evening, accomplished and fulfilled, somewhere.