reminder of the cold comfort

smell of the basement

the mystery of shelves and shelves

the times and the heights

and the smoke drifting

up in the distance

which later we breathed into our lungs

as purposeful recognition

endless padding and falling

our feet like pedastools

showcasing unrecognized art

which we donate to the second-hand store

only to buy back later

what I’m hungry for now

will probably eat me

until I reverse and find

the path which lead me

to this story which I told

and found repeating

to the walls

which hold our weary arms

stretch marked from grasping tight

to what we found important