Things that are useless

Garden gnomes, naturally,
and greeting cards, generally.
They are a performance,
set-pieces for the play that is the life
we all wish
we were living.

Obvious things, such as
Clothing on inanimate objects
Hard pants and wearing black to a funeral
People who tell you they “get it”
People who tell you they “can’t imagine”
The snail in the fish tank I forgot
that keeps cleaning
sliding through green muck
excrement and dead fish,
the last living creature
in a watery graveyard.

I want to tell the snail that
hope, too, is a waste
of its tiny brain’s space
a mirage waiting
in a desert tricking
soft minds and parched hearts.

But a snail doesn’t know what hope is
any more than it knows
a mirage
or a desert
or a human
who sits on a couch
cradling a garden gnome
dressed in a soft pink onesie

so it keeps on cleaning.