pinwheels

the pinwheels made of dough were left out on the window sill
the ice dripped from the gutter and they melted like
icicles in the heat from the sun

the pinwheel left out on the lawn through summer, fall, and winter
froze, then tipped, then disappeared,
into the trash it blew

the pinwheel inside the kaleidoscope was untouchable
but always changing, unlike the cookies, unlike the form,
into the tube it is, and stays

protected

unless someone was to break it, smash it
and then it would no longer be

i am a pinwheel.

the broken one, the smashed one, the melted one, the protected one,
the one thrown into the trash category
because, just because

sadness abounds me, tears don't stop falling
i am the wheel round and round pinned down
stuck and struck
happiness overrode by grief

sometimes i want to believe everything is the way it should be
but then sometimes reality checks me, that hip check or
knock upon my wooden door that says, you are so blind
and now that i have opened my eyes, i just know i believe things are the way they are because
they are, but i cant change them, well some of them
and it hurts.

then i realize that is why things are the way they are because I've put myself into that tube to be that pinwheel, that beautiful ever changing form of jewels or glass or paper that floats here and thither and yonder... so the pain that i am hiding from can't touch me, but it is not truth, because it is touching me and that is why i am there hiding from the reality

where is this taking me,
i don't really know.
i just know i cant fix things and make them right... i am not in control of the tube
it just ran out the door like the meatball