Fibrous Shells





My thoughts are lost

like a dropped peanut
shell at a restaurant,

pulverized into a syrupy
dust with dribbles of cola,
bits of bread, steak fat,
and chicken crumbs

while a few memories
stick to the limbic system
of the floor, and remain
in perfect, whole shell

with stringy fibers attached,
as I polish the potholed
exterior with my fingernail.

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