my hair
as my politics
on the left
out in left field
head high
as a high ball
in a tall glass

I part
my lips
into a smile
and all the while
carrying the pain
I strain to part with
old ways

I part
my memories
parcel them in boxes
store them in the attic
where the Christmas tree
and socks is

I part
with friends
I’ve grown apart from
some partings are sweet
some glum

I part
ways
with people
that don’t serve me
they don’t deserve me