He rises at a dawn so cold
it could break a lover’s heart
to be the first to pick through
someone’s attic that has bloomed
and blossomed with 8 tracks
and Life Magazines covers
from when he was young
and she was still here.
Later, he’ll warm himself
among his newfound friends:
78’s of Bix, and Louis and Ella,
yellow lampshades and mismatched
chairs, trying to refurbish
what he can of leftover dreams
still hanging around, rusting with age.
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