I dig frantically through
a cardboard box strewn with souvenirs.
Searching like an inner-city derelict
for something valuable,
unsure what color, size, or shape.
Identity.
Instead, I find
only vaguely luke-warm scraps of paper
from times when I knew
no more of me than now,
but just wasn't as aware of the
loneliness.
- 1980
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