Angel Hair and Dump Trucks

the same urge

that i have to write

things down

is the same urge

this old lady

in north carolina

has,

the old lady on

hoarders on a&e

her mansion filled with

so much shit

it is somehow sad and

diabolical

as if she is some evil

genius stocking up on

what's needed

to be

greedy and crazy

and yet

aren't we all

greedy and

crazy

aren't we all

not really right in the

head? these are eternal

questions

i know

but this old lady

in north carolina

has all her brothers there

and the 2 gay guys

who are her thoughtful and kindhearted

landlords

and the psychologist

who comes with the

show

that old lady can't walk

without a goddamn

walker

and she has them all in

tears frustrated as hell

not giving up nothing

in her walker

walking and yelling

to leave her alone

this

is

all hers

that crap flooding the street outside

her rented mansion

that rotten crap they keep begging her

to toss

but this is her life

these things

rolltop desks

bread-ties

pieces of paper

mattresses

melted bars of soap

rollerskates

halloween

paperplates

candeliers

and

so on

so forth

hers

indexed inside her

skull

a filing cabinet universe

of angelhair

and dumptrucks

what is it?

why can't

she be loved

and keep it all?

why do they not

understand?

right now

i'm writing it all down

in cursive

every stupid fucking item

every little

thing

on index cards bought

at dollar

tree

and i want to say

all this is yours, baby

don't worry

it's yours

they can all just go to

hell