bread crumbs

$12.99 : a poem

$12.99
a poem

i wonder
what it would be like
to sell your life
at a yard sale.

i haven't much use for it, anymore.

at one
life was brand new.
at ten
life was gently used.
and at fifteen.
life was worn out
like your favorite denim jacket.
now life was ragged,
threadbare,
ready to be hauled off to goodwill.

i'd sell my first kiss, first.
i didn't want it,
anyway.
it was
gawky
awkward
with too much tongue
and not much meaning.
it reminded me
of adolescence.

i'd sell all my first days
because
i hated hellos.
i'd sell all my graduations, too
because i wasn't much
of a goodbye person,
either.

i'd sell my sophomore year of college,
next.
i changed my major
not one,
not two,
but three times,
somehow managing to hate
each one
more than myself.
it was full of
indecision
discomfort
and the kind
of homesickness
where you miss
someone's arms
more than a house.

i'd sell my childhood dog
because he was too grouchy.
i'd sell my first job
for obvious reasons.
i'd sell this
and that
and everything but the
kitchen sink
because it never did anything to offend me.

last, i'd sell myself
because what's a person
without their memories?