I press a switch
and the electric eraser
awakens
humming loudly as it traverses
the living room carpet
sucking up historyGone! the crumbs of cake
left behind from a
birthday party with
presents and friends and laughter
and balloonsGone! the piece of sharp cheddar
that tempered the
bottle of pinot
we drank on our anniversary
in front of the fire
and almost spilled someGone! the bit of mud
that came in with a friend
and stayed behind to mark
where they sat
and played hearts with us
until 3 a.m.Gone! the trace of powdered sugar
fallen from the doughnuts
we ate that late sunny morning
when we didn't feel like
getting dressedGone! the little piece of foil wrapper
from the chocolate I ate that night
when I just couldn't put the book down
until at last it fell
from my sleeping graspOne day a long time from now
anthropologists will unearth
this vacuum cleaner bag
open it up
and read my biography
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