The white golf ball on the bed of dove shells
beside the periwinkle in the abalone shell
that taken together form the paperweight
that stops my receipts from blowing away
while into a spreadsheet I transfer expenses
for months then a year nags at my muse
to from out of the shells and one golf ball
write something that reads universal.
By now I’ve decided it’s hopeless, but then
I’m hanging my clothes on the line and a crow
swoops in and pinches the golf ball!