All types of dishonest nostalgia—
A picture show of
mom
dragging a brush through my hair
A film on the tv
Public school in a Walmart coat
Pajamas on the rug with the lamp on curtains drawn
—Knock my door 6pm in december
They line up drop off gifts in droves
They codec time and space
Launch me in a hope
Beckon me to a memory
I swear on tomorrow
I swear on tomorrow
Snail mail a wish to god
Drop a note in my chest
It falls to the pit; I fish it out later
4 medium sized chapters from here
autumn will be kinder