trying to list my memories in order of preference,
knowing sad heaps of them are lost,
I have written your name on the backs of countless receipts,
waded through the misdirection of your words,
sat alone behind a screen, remembering, remembering,
you weigh so heavy, more and more lately,
given credence by the distances of time,
holding up my elements, aside from myself,
a half read novel, the contents of my pockets,
fuse failed rockets to the moon.
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These are, for the most part, poems.
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