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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