tetris

my head is like tetris: things falling, nonstop, and none fit.

there is an L-shaped question with a block-shaped answer,

and then there are straight, simple lines that demand a place.

i dreamed of tetris when i was younger, all the falling things, all the mismatched shapes;

maybe there is a metaphor, but probably not. i just

write about the abstract, the unreal things. maybe this isn't even a poem,

but it is a description, and i don't know what to do but to describe,

to tell the way my head exists.

i haven't played tetris in years. but sometimes things combine, coalesce,

and i close my eyes, and i see blocks falling, and i know the next one won't fit.

maybe everyone's life is a game of tetris and maybe no one knows what shape they are,

where they are supposed to fit, in the black background,

in the flat colors of 1984. maybe the shapes aren't wrong,

and i just have to move, flip, change and fix them.

maybe my brain is an unwinnable game, though: there will always be more,

more L-shapes, more blocks, more two-by-twos and straight lines,

more things that won't ever be where they should be.