Friday, March 11, 2016

STILL, LIFE

More than once—
I've stuck

some shit
I bought

in multiples, without
thinking—from someone

who bought it
from someone
who bought

it from someone who
Probably stole it—

into the most
delicately fluted crimson and
cobalt glass bowl

that my older
Brother Jeff made

one Christmas, alone
in his
basement—

and just
left
it there—next to the Nutty

Bars by the
windowsill—until,
either

it rotted—
or I

bought more.

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