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10:44 a.m. - 2009-05-25
clean clothes can't walk on their own.
your unmoving clothes

i cram in white garbage bags,

clean and crumpled,

throw outside the door.

years of

those thankful daydreams,
what i never had to feel,

but to feel them
just in case they become a deal,

they become

very real,


and the cool wind
coming through the window

and the sounds,
the neighbor's weed eater,
the leaves' breeze,
day sounds,

memory entry ways

pleasantries to come, (you) to go

( please, please go


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