journal,
cosmo
and vanity faire.
jewelry and cards,
her clothes from the seventies
hung on racks.
plastic wrapped,
and the shoes.
good lord the shoes
in boxes
on the stairs.
one dropped match
and the place would go up
like a paper bomb
on a chinese new year.
she couldn't part with a thing,
not a single
thing,
including.
old boyfriends, much to my
despair.
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