a slip of paper with my name on it

a scrap of paper with my name scrawled on it:
this is a treasure lost to my youth,
like the dry detritus of joyful cigarette smoking
week-long tangles with LSD
weightless flirtation,
no heavy consequences,
wings of exhaled passion lifting me
higher.

a slip of paper with my name smeared on it:
something discovered in the bottom of a purse
gritty with crumbs and sand
a summer memory bringing fresh heartbreak to cracking
surface and tears falling
the privilege of over-acting grief
no struggling for survival
just laying in self-pity
alone.

a piece of paper with my name in your handwriting on it:
one more item on a list of things i've yet to hold
and numbered among the things
i have put my palms to are your cheeks, your cats, your hair
your bed and breath, your dishes
your taste in music, your computer screen
and old time photographs,
developed shortly after your
wedding.