Displacement

What leads to what? What was I thinking?
How could any person say?
Is it the brink of one's disaster
that defines the brightest day?
How does a gaping, toothless grin
affect the efforts of an ear?
Will troops and tankers in Iraq
make either tower reappear?

I'd ask Amelia, D.B. Cooper,
Jimmy Hoffa, if they knew.
Alas, they're missing, all enigmas,
blackest boxes in my view.
These riddles riddle me as solo socks
and loved ones in the store
find hidden niches -- are these glitches
in the swinging space-time door?

I think a void, perhaps, exists,
in which all atoms find their fates
and anti-atoms come to Earth,
conserving properties and states.
Electron-hole to Clinton-Dole,
I'd say these forces add to nil.
As emptiness allows creation,
this is how the spaces fill.

So those I've lost aren't really lost --
they're only trading spots for now,
displaced in space by other matter
as their masses might allow.
As that implies an anti-me steps in
each time I drift away,
I'd say that she ate all the ice cream
and I'd mosey on my way...