neStiNg - version one
before the last box is unpacked
before the furniture has been pushed
against one wall or another
before the phone is turned on
or the stereo turned up
their faces
glossy
grinning
open-mouthed
arm around shoulder around arm
paint my walls
it is only with their eyes on my back
watching me bend
unravel
place and replace
that I can begin to start over
as much as anyone can
I can hear their stares
their almost omniscient presence
darting
from one side of the room
to the other
the familiar, whispering
companionship of remembrance
I believe
for this moment
in things like "let's keep in touch"
and "we'll always be friends"
sayings cheapened over time
clich�, yearbook lines
or quotes from campy 80's movies
I believe
because I have these images
cut-out or framed
collaged or tucked in the corner of a mirror
posing
wide-eyes and dimples
I am holding on
the only way I know how
back to pOetRy
back home