the smell of people lingers on the things they give away.
walk in any second-hand store and your nose will tell you so.
at the salvation army, the scent of loss is strong.
[loss of life | loss of love | loss of home]
it smells like tired dust, mourning mold, the sweat of unfinished business.
thoughts of how we name things fill my mind as I snail around the clusters of
[other people’s things].
consider an army created for the unwanted – a flurry of open arms and empty, ill-lit rooms for things undone but not garbage.
consider a thing’s first handed-ness – crisp collar | shiny spoon | lucky lamp shade.
[salvation for things to re-live]
i begin to feel uncomfortable.
items are dirty | broken reaching for end-of-table suicide.
quick, small breaths bring me to focus.
i am looking for a shelf.
i steer toward the back of the space where the furniture leans lazily against the paint-chipped wall like discarded damsels.
i see several shelves.
but my eyes take a left and settle on a black case.
a fat cord hangs out an unclosed edge like a corpse finger.
curiosity engaged, i go to this mysterious misfit and lift the lid.
inside a Brother Electric profile 12 typewriter.
complete with birth certificate instructions, ribbon, the scent of oil and need.
on a browning piece of masking tape: IT WORKS.
a promise. my fingertips tingle.
there is no price tag, of course. i’m buying this dreamy dinosaur.
i slightly pull a muscle in my neck as i lift it to the counter to pay.
the ghosts of this Brother [electric] have attached to my marrow.
magicians, all of them.
This day. Gosh, so gorgeous. The birds. The bees. The trees. Miller’s laughter. Pages’ smile. Oscar’s smile. Jett’s jokes. The hubby reaching for my hand after dinner. So. Much. Love.
Tonight…it’s reading poetry…watching a movie set in Italy because that’s where my soul is dreaming it could be.
#morningcoffeesessions – Still continuing…! At Firefly Creative Writing.
Be kind. Be gentle. Spread love.