Garage Sale

she never threw anything out the driveway is filled clothes hang on racks hers on the left, a few of his on the right tables of her shoes kitchenware, pots, pans knickknacks, tchachka’s souvenirs from long ago trips some of the furniture will go..there’s no need for all of it now the most valuable, jewelry, some paintings are in the garage the money isn’t important at this point it doesn’t matter…. how can he put a price on what’s been taken his memories aren’t of a particular dress or pair of earrings she wore he won’t look at a painting or photograph of a trip and think of her he misses her smile, the touch of her hand on his face the look in her eyes, how she curled up inside him in bed at night, stealing his warmth … when she spoke his name