Poem, Poverty, Games
Still Sealed
December 10, 2024
now, for the price of three decent meals
I finally own the games of my childhood
all in my pocket, not simply reached for
my youthful self finally satisfied, blank
while all around me, memories of others
sifting banked coals under still-warm ash
trade tokens come of foiled names, eaten
* * *
from Wetdryvac https://ift.tt/MZkyRqX
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