The Address Book
Spied a discarded book
buried beneath clutter
silent acquaintances lost
at the end of disconnected numbers
Whatever the reason
past their prime
or just out of time
lost in a forgotten season
Dog eared pages,
like arthritic fingers
bend to grip
beg to differ
This dust coats
with a granular rust
silently corrosive
like broken trust
Now he's opening these memories
forgotten moments
blazing to life
like some awakening phoenix
Repressed lives
unfulfilled desires
teetering on an edge
that can only swing one way
Stolen glances
handsome profiles
covert admiration
rejected humiliation
Swirling plumes
of cigarette smoke
endless weekends dancing
going home eventually
How long has it actually been?
more than twenty five years
of accumulating baggage
time to discard this garbage
mathiasthom
written 7/24/10
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