Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Mark


Mark



I need a souvenir; you
say fine and take an old car tag

straighten the crimps with a hammer
that makes blank tones, only beating

the metal smooth enough to pack
and carry on, to place under

the one-of-a-kind whorls of my
skin of my smooth uncalloused feet

to find, when unpacking, you were
careful not to scratch the surface.

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