Incomplete Ideas

Dead on my feet.
The store was tiresome today.
Feet are throbbing.
So glad to be home.
I've spread a blanket on the floor.
The carpet hurts my sunburn.
Ninety-five today. It will get much hotter.
Muggy. Exhausting.
I hate heat.
I wish for the cool mountain air.
For the color green.
I'm emptying another box.
I'm not sure if it's from this move or something I put off from a previous one.
Papers. So many random bits.
An old work schedule.
An empty envelope.
A post-it with the number 154 on it.
A locker number perhaps?
A note left on on my windshield.
Something about a flower and feeling under the weather.
"Miss you."
A to-do list.
A letter in my hurried hand. Unsent, of course.
I crumple it.
Some cards from Mom. Both are Valentines.
The sketch for Magda's tattoo on an index card.
A Polish tongue twister on the back of it.
The Gaelic for "Many a time a man's mouth broke his nose."
An old address book - neon gel written on black paper.
None of these people live at these addresses anymore.
I have no reason to write to them anyway.
Why do I keep these things?
Some numbers to motel rooms where my father used to stay.
I used to call.
I used to answer too.
Math Placement results.
Top bracket, of course. I doubt I could do that now.
How I detest math.
Cards. Badges. Season passes. Bubbles. Medals.
Maybe I should shove it all back in the box and drop it in the sea.
It would come back on the tide.
Stupid ocean.
An unfinished crossword.
Some ancient stamps from Czechoslovakia when it was still such.
Old letters from Karoliina.
Parking passes.
Condolences.
Tassels from graduation.
A box of history.
A box of junk.
Very little of this holds any meaning for me.
I threw my real past away a long time ago...