all the
mags
that published
me
I sold
at a
big
yard sale
ten cents
apiece
the
only
draft
of my
phone booth
novel
was accepted
by
a Dumpster
with
all its
research
and I
waited
at
the window
for trash day
not
just
this time
but
whenever
I move
I lop off
a little
bit
more
of my
life
my past
what
my sister
calls
my disposable life
it's easy
saying
goodbye
to lovers
cats
journals
anything
that
keeps
me
from
the next
chapter
who knows
a year
from
now
maybe three
it could
be
me
Vince Corvaia