we're a piece of treasure
salvaged and secreted away in this brain of mine
i try to keep us shiny;
we get polished up when there is too much time.
truth be told, we're probably not a treasure
coveted by anyone but me
(less and less; occasionally)
we're a piece of lace
old and unravelled
i know we were beautiful once, i just
have no will to search for the right piece of thread.
i'll sew us into curtains to shade faces from the sun
in the back of the van where we once slept
i'll use us to pad a pillow on which to lay our heads.
we're a faded patchwork quilt. while we fade,
i fix the patterns in my mind.
we're almost impossibly put together now;
less blood and less heart and more
fodder for a poem and a song and a story of before.
we're petering out, slowing to a stop, and
to be unfair
i hope, for you, that stop is far from town & a long walk to the nearest gas station-
for me, we're going to move me along until i get there
i think that there is here.