I am (Excerpt)
'I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live with shadows tost'.
John Clare
Some things, Lo', that you left behind.
For instance, the brown paper envelope with your impressions of a literary festival.
The CHANEL box from your 17th birthday necklace.
(You wear it over your garments.)
There's the matchbox from the restaurant where I had offal on your 18th.
The cake-cook book, you bought it yourself.
(Laduree, you know, your birthday-cake-shop.
With the waitresses in the cute outfits.)
Finally, one of your butterflies.
Mounted.
