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.
If you liked this poem you'll also enjoy:
The Exuberance He Gives - joy.
If you liked this poem you'll also enjoy:
The Exuberance He Gives - joy.