hanging on by the shoulder

[heartsofromaine]

what do you think about that jumbly mix of uppity strings
in a ball lying underneath your bed
it doesn't stop growling or rolling around
burying your filthy shoes(the ones you'll wear again someday)

and that familiar growl telling you
clean up
sort it out
before it buries all of you

you can't--it's easier to forget
nothing's there(except those lovely shoes, of course)
you figure it'll go away
you figure it'll stop

it'll dissipate into the cold airstream
the one that travels from me
to you
from you
to them
and back again.