Painted store wall urges,
“Redeem magic coins here.”
The place I’ve sought for decades!
But, damn it, where did I hide those coins?
Back home, sifting through drawers:
unshredded documents, forgotten manuscripts,
unreadable floppy disks, music on fucking cassettes;
letters from exes, expired meds,
keys to doors that exist only in the long halls of memory.
But, of course, no magic coins;
there will be no redemption.
T. Allen Culpepper