The Little Shoppe of Juxtapositions #PostItNotePoetry


Hearts ache at the in
that is not the out door
where vestibule meets an
old counter, recently buffed.

Beyond, shelves house curios
that whisper stories through
onion-skin tissue
when held.


Slow dance in dappled dreams
that touch frets and spines
caress celluoid reels and fabric
as a turntable plays an never ending
ever-shifting soundtrack.

At the out door that is not an in
hearts ache to return.

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