inventory

five shelves of sci-fi and fantasy
two of classics
three boxes of vinyl, a dying beast
a pile of felt-tip pens, another
three sketchbooks, one unused
two library books, dust-bound
seven yards of memories
and not one picture of you.

prelude (draft)

when your silhouette
played a jazz tune against
the awkwardness and inappropriateness
of the motel bathroom mirror
i couldn’t help but laugh
at the glory in you and the pathetic in me