“Counting Crows: 3:43AM” by Terrance Huiskens

it's hard to imagine that you're nowhere
that nothing you've done has ever
                   really mattered.

when you were younger
          clueless & in love (with someone):
skipping rocks across the surface
of the Saginaw River
      seemed like a good thing to do
while considering life.

each rock represented a career
     a choice
     a good feeling skipping
across a glossy surface.

you never thought then
     no, not once
that your life would be the embodiment
of a hundred rocks... dirty, stained, cracked
   pieces of the earth
touched but only once
       long forgotten about.

and now i can't remember myself.