From The Start

The beginning of my day starts with a
detailed analysis of all my past pain.
I dwell on it while I scrub the back of
my legs in the shower. It can be anything
from times people gave me weird looks
because I said I liked something they
didn’t, or maybe being yelled at by my
father for smacking my brother in the head
with an open cereal box getting the marshmallows
and gray bits well scattered over all of the stairs.
Once I get on a roll I can really start dredging up
the past. It often feels like sticking your hand into
wet ocean sand, but instead of pulling out shells
and making necklaces for my friends I keep them
all to myself until I have too many to carry.
We make our way down the board walk through
clouds of smoke and masses of t-shirt vendors,
and the whole time I am dropping the chunks of calcium
carbonate through the small spaces between the boards.
I don’t forget about them though, I know they’re still
down there; waiting patiently to be carried out by the tide
and found again.

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