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Sep 142010
 

by Keith Baumgardener


Last night I emptied my pockets

In a mess on my dresser,

Dropped my loose change in an old blue mug,

Brushed my teeth in front of a cracked up mirror,

Changed out of my greasy shirt,

Tucked myself in under a worn out blanket,

And cried

And cried

And cried,

For the first time in memory

Over nothing in particular.

Perhaps the fall of the Soviet Union

Or that dead squirrel decorating the intersection,

Or maybe just because

I couldn’t think of anything else to do

Nevertheless I found something

Buried deep in my damp pillow.

Myself.

I wouldn’t say I’m better off

But my heart beat more this morning

Than since it last snowed.