i can procrastinate for years
but today i turn to one of my non projects
and begin a long road that ends with a clean cellar
to tiptoe past earwigs, ants, alive or dead
i will find old levis that ex boyfriends stained
along with their once prim argyle sweater
shirts that advertise faith, belief in
showing the lord to mexico
petticoats no longer period
now that rains have dip dyed them like easter eggs
old ass memories of people that are fucked up now
or doing really well, in oil paint and skeleton suits
patches to commemorate my relationship with mom
that never did get sewed to a sash
or dare certificates that never got hung up
there are things that haven’t changed
bags of googly eyes, packs of needles
in both cases the big eyes have been taken and used
too many memories, stuffed into three ring binders
and things that, thank god, have changed
like the mess and mildew and ideas i can’t keep up with
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