Monday, April 19, 2010

Crammed into Perfume Boxes.

I keep all of my old memories
in perfume boxes,
piled high in my closet
a pink floral print box
and a red quilted one
full of old notes,
passed back and forth in 7th grade history class
because our teacher was decrepit,
her hair was see through, and she always wore the same blue lab coat
every single day,
I'm sure everyone had a teacher like this,
ours was named Ms. Tobias
and could never tell when we were passing notes
or cheating on her weekly history exams
I have old letters in decorated envelopes
and empty boxes of Runts candies, those were my favorite
unfinished diaries, because I would always start one and after a week abandon it
and notebooks with lyrics scribbled in the margins
collections of twigs, rocks and feathers gathered in Astoria park
movie tickets and old photos that say Fujifilm on the back
I miss those days before digital cameras were big
when you would have to go to CVS to develop pictures
off your disposable cameras,
what they looked like would always be a surprise
and they would last forever
I sealed up my boxes before I left to college,
they still smelled
like a mixture of the park
mixed with Axe body spray, and Mike and Ikes
the smell of middle school and nostalgia
I think I'm ready to open them back up again
because the years are flying by
and damn, do I feel old.

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