Tagged: vintage

the dining table

the dining table
for the rest of our
lives, our first and
last, arrived
at sixteen minutes
past four this
afternoon, a
danish lady, with
a few wrinkles and
countless stories
tucked into
her sleeves, wrapped
carefully against the
first of december’s
chill, stepping out onto
the curb, in the
arms of gentle robert

three days before heading

three days before heading
home, a ball of nerves
tumbles in the chest,
jostled and batted around
like the best
game of post-election
pinball ever played,
where the score is
already in the trillions,
you’re playing right
into enemy territory,
and all the flashing
lights, bells and noise-
makers seem to only make
the ball move faster –
keeping up is essentially
adding so many
zeroes and counting on
that slingshot save

christmas sunday, we

christmas sunday, we
dust off our best memories,
take them for a spin,

laying everything vintage
at the foot of our stained glass saints

brushing up on one

our bond is vintage.

our bond is vintage.
for the most part, the buttons
have lost their functions.

occasionally, you will
still try to work in that charm

near the end, we drew

we start forgetting

we start forgetting
things as soon as we
remember them –
i put you in a box
labeled volatile,
but harmless