And Yet, I Am Often Content

Somehow, it’s often
Enough when it is,
But never when it

Isn’t anymore.
Why is that? How much
Would be just enough

To stay enough once
It was all long gone,
But for memory?

Memory goes, too,
But let’s leave that be
For now. All the times

You say, This is fine,
Meaning really fine,
Contenting, enough—

Could you just take one
And find contentment
Knowing you’d had it?

Or could tipping points
Be reached, sating you
Forever for this

Or that? That’s enough
Of that, and I’m glad,
Staying glad, enough.

Not for the good stuff.
Not for what you want.
Want is want is want.