June 11, 2006

smatterings of mis-matched matchbooks
unread and burnt, candlewicks and rags of sick, clinging on spinning walls and distorted visions of mirrors and ceilings.
Somewhere along the line
she fell off and that simple one-handed grasp let go
on all her reality as it came crashing
through the ceiling with the bath tub.

Silver rings left on bedside tables and puddles in the basement
snippets and smiles and glances and scents
medley of simplistic joys;
reaching out on the porch steps, eyes closed in dreamless sleepless slumber
a cell phone rings and a car engine growls

door opens
arms close.

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