half crumpled note

6 inklings - saturday

half a crumpled note folded and tucked away
in a nook and cranny at the park bench
speaking words never seen
entirely felt yet never felt by the other half
past the hour his fingers numb at the tips
tinkling at the bottom of the can
you even remember? do you even feel?
half the memories lost in a hazel fog
he clears the tables with a moth-eaten rag
you play the ragdoll in your bed
tossed and turned into some stranger he hardly remembers
the steps up to an ant infested bonfire
putting out the dog for the evening and standing there
staring opposite the street at the neat little rows
they scream at each other they scream repeatedly
the half crumpled note

it says it all


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