But the bigger part of me
called me to keep everything.
I laid the different things I’d collected
all over the floor of my room
and pondered them.
They were like a puzzle
but without jigsaw edges.
Nothing seemed to fit together,
but I know it all does—it all will someday.
From the crumpled absentee sheets
to the front page torn from a library book
that screams a giant spoiler:
ALLEN AND TARA HAVE SEX AT THE END!!!
It all means something.
Everything here has meaning—or it did have meaning
for a little while.
I’ll find the meaning.