Thursday, August 4, 2016


You can't just go around
saying your name is Will
Power because you want to.
You're not even a Billy Power.
So what gives? I'll help you
with that large carton, but
only this once. 
Living here, just like this,
it's always something. A
17th street loft, in 1968  -
trucks and fleet guys, the
run and drone of the constant
delivery. Picking up pieces of
things that have fallen.
I've found so many things 
between here and the curb, 
it's incredible.  Second-hand
cast-offs, things dropped and
forgotten  -  a wallet or two over
time, loose change, glasses and
combs, books and a flute.
What do you call it when someone
walks away and leaves something 
behind? I wonder. Is there a word 
specific to that? It's not abandonment,
because you don't know you've done
it; it's not quite lost or stolen, though
I guess it is too. When it's done with
people, I guess it's called big trouble.
Take me, for example, Mr. Will Power...
Is that your daughter you've left at the curb?

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