has become
the staging
area for
so many things.
the black wood
unmarred by
drink or food,
dishes
and silverware.
it collects my
life now.
laundry coming up from
basement,
laundry going down.
detergent,
and groceries not
yet put away.
bills,
a checkbook, stamps,
an assortment of mail,
pens,
cash and coins
rolling around.
i can't remember the last
dinner i had
there.
when was that?
thanksgiving?
i've lost count of the years.
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