poem challenge: the pieces

i am missing small pieces.
i sit quietly and count them all;
calmly, but
as the number of pieces grows ever higher
there is a part of me quietly starting to
build the steam for
a fucking panic.
these small pieces are tricky bastards, they
slide in and out of place
and around
like those puzzles you got as cheap party favors-
always one piece missing.

even though the aim is to get
the cheap plastic cartoon picture back together
as something recognisable
there is still always
a small piece
which is missing.

not deep. cheap and plasticky.