Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Repossessions

A dressy shoe,
conjuring--
a black dress, a night on the town,
a look, faintly imprinted--
the surplus inertia of our existence tingling
with the prospect of memory.
Somewhere, sometime,
I feel like I've met you before.
Pieces of possessions put together,
but only a fool gets killed for a
shoe.