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.