Yard Sale of Thoughts

End of day,

a sliver of moldy cheese

left on a black napkin,

less than gourmet.

But, I ate it;

I’m not afraid of what I might hallucinate,

I don’t regret that

I gave the best parts away.

I never thought I could dine

on bacteria and rind,

but I’ve learned to take it.

In this world,

the short vowel days,

the onset,

the rime,

the way you said thank you

at the end of class time.

What’s real is the full bellies we leave behind.

©2023 | K.F. Hartless

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