Three Pictures Poem by Jerry Pike

At laughter times, I think of you
and who you aren’t.
No knowledge speaks a damn word.
Three feathery pictures,
collected from a lifetimes begging,
none match really,
whatever floated through my dreaming skull,
they weren’t it.
One laugh, one frown, one stare.
Three pictures from a similar dream,
yet glued on different planes,
in a different album.
Yet still I fight on,
new skirmishes each week,
dogfights plentiful,
with deflection shots
occasionally hitting.
And still there, stamp hinged
to dark-blue blotting paper pages,
a life I’d maybe know,
some maybe day.