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i took a corpse
to the mall
on SUNDAY
(it was a religious experience)
& the weird thing is
she drove.
& when i got into her
car
or casket
or whatever
we hugged & kissed (like relatives)
but that was it
then she went stiff
again.
a tattooed statue at the wheel
& me
coughing up embalming fluid
amongst the cigarette smoke
i whispered out the window.
& you winced as we wiggled
between winnebagos & station wagons,
sloooooooooooooooowly
like pallbearers
                    balancing
                a box,
or like a mother
                 placing an infant
                                         in a crib,
hand behind its head.
& she understated the overture
so i sort of never understood
we were ending
up as enemies
all before the engine
stopped.
& it was winter but i was overheating
smoky breathing &
the words i couldn't reach &
the heaviness of my chest,
the weight of waiting.
but she never said another word
as we walked through the mall
& i floated next to her
like a ghost
or a balloon she was holding
& she grasped
at something new to try on
& let go of me
& i floated
& floated...
there is a certain sadness
and a certain beauty
in finding treasures from our past.
that old CD
that you used to listen to on repeat
over
and over
and over again
beaten up and scratched
until you wore it out
no longer fits into your music library.
that t-shirt that you wore to every musical audition
just for good luck
no longer fits around your sides.
and that photo of you
and your high school sweetheart;
where is he now?
his letters stopped coming at christmas time
about three years ago.

nostalgia is a friend
and a foe
but it is sometimes
one of the only things
that can keep you the happiest
when you've no where else
to travel.
it was three years ago
when you kissed me on the cheek on the sidewalk
during the light snowfall
that would later become the biggest storm of the year.
but we didn't know that.
all we knew
is that you soon found your hand
gripping mine
and we both believed
that it was not the mittens
that were keeping our palms warm.
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