Pieces of Me

Sliding another coffin nail out of sky-blue cardboard, lending yet another piece of myself to a stranger. If giving a gift is giving part of yourself you can find me in the lungs of street performers in Rome who rise with electric light and sing until the sun sends them to bed again. You can find me in the deep breathing lungs and steadfast hearts of all the friends who take me with them as they dance into the night. You can find me in the local economy of Woodruff Park where the homeless trade cigarettes for apples or shoes or rusted quarters If you were to cut me open I wonder how many pieces of how many people would spill out? Momentary kindness builds the foundations of my soul and everyday I add another brick to the wall