poem: driftwood

25 Sep

tv’s buzzing some old movie –
undercover angels chasing demon dope –
ceiling fan spins lazy –
winter’s begins a slow drift in –


i keep checking memories left hidden
in the bottom of an old tee-shirt drawer –
wipe away spiderwebs and driftwood,
cut free pictures of dead lovers with
a rusty switchblade knife –

she had a name, changed now to something
i don’t remember, once married, settled
into default divorce, two teenaged kids off to college –
an image dissolves in my brain: a woman alone,
settled on a fat, brown couch situated to perfection
in the middle of an upscale Scottsdale house,
a small dog coiled into the crook of her leg –
her smile wavers, just before a teardrop falls,
just before a memory shatters and i close the drawer –


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