All of it singing… pondering. A. THE BOX.

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 I visited you in my mind today. I saw you in a chair across from me

The art I would make you what it would look like what I would write about your eyes as they met mine. A box to write, you are just a box. Things your hands touched are in this box

I eat strawberry wafers and lemon hot water with ginger and I think of your. Gait.


Remember L?

My love for her! And no one could know. 

The Christmas card and my bitter lesbian heart flowed out in every loop.

The lies and the secrets she gave me only to pull them away.


With these objects she touched and it’s all about love.

Love that is above my head like a silver blimp. It w as never real.

Wave a pride flag and watch me sink into her face.



Snapshots in time of them and me and how I felt.

How little they gave me. How far I jumped.

How people are messengers and when they leave the love remains…. Not my picture memory holding onto these shreds timeless in their representation breeding stagnancy. Get rid of it!


Get rid of this junk no matter how sacred. 

Tea bags…… as if! Oh the smell of….. no.



These things in my cabinet these things in the boxes of written memories and people……


Today.


This is enough. I am enough. These things may be in needed as I had no parents.


My… ata hment was to quietly mass small objects from unavailable people inconsistent in their love.

These are not treasures to look at on a January day as dust shines through sunlight.

As I haven’t bathed yet and the coffee is still on my breath…..




External memories tangible is what? Meaning?


I’m just a spirit in a material world.

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