What I Wouldn't Give

We pull the rancid and
Sticky strands
Straight from the air
Sculpting them into something
That in the mind
Is rare and beautiful
And not unlike unicorns

Then we throw these
Ashtrays
To the heavens
And wait for their return
Because
We have heard a story
About letting go

We expect gravity
To function
Like they told us it would

We waste
Entire lifetimes
Waiting for a friend
To open the door
And release this vacuum