Where do the pixels go

After you press delete?

Where do emotions go

Once emoted?

Where does the wind go

Once it blows itself out?

What about shadows

Once they are gone?

Is there a giant shadow box?

Everything goes some place

 

Where?

Is there a cloud old pixels?

I suppose emotions

Tuck themselves back

Where they came from.

Or end up in another being.

Wind, has to goes someplace.

Doesn’t it visit the wait in

The big waiting room for old weather?

Where does all our talking end up

Once it leaves the talker?

Is there a storage place

For used words?

And love?

That has to go to some special place

Is it the love garage, locker, shed?

And time? That’s the ultimate question

Are there second safe deposit boxes?

Freedom? Racism? Hatred?

Are all these places us?

Are we the grand savings banks

Of all the invisible stuff

That we can’t see?

 

Which brings up the theory of place

Place is where everything ends up

Like the thoughts behind this poem.

 

Tom Stock

(Who looses stuff)