Grandpa died like an antique
taking 25 years to leave.
I remember him only broken.
so,
I don’t know why
I bother collecting the pieces.
if I had them all
I wouldn’t know how they fit.
instead,
I assemble a misshapen puzzle
the ever-expanding picture priceless to me
and refuse to appraise it
for fear it’s as worthless as fear can be.
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