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.