Some identities clung,

followed me like a long sheet

of toilet paper to my shoe-

extricated only with a vigorous shake

from the heel.

 

Others, titles evolved,

with me reluctantly picking the lint

of our separation off,

a descending tear or two

at their end.

 

 

During gaps between known identities

I scrambled, a frantic search-

panic drove to the first steady island,

nestled somewhere in the Pacific ocean;

purpose Grace’s  kindness.

 

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