got stoned
for the first time
since I was nineteen
and took out my mother's records
lit a votive candle
& listened to know her
rewind
can't pin our lives on a clothesline
cheek on your belly
kick of the baby
where was the camera crew?
I step into photo booths
to find you
& wait for truth
to wrap its arms around me
held your hands at the drug store,
broke bread at the drive through
close my eyes to step into
your love
which are hers
and which are mine?
which are a stranger's
she left behind?
I'm a thrift store explorer
I'm a history hoarder
But I don't own anything
not even my soul