i beg of you,
release or return my previous poem.
i foolishly made no backup copy
(it was bad, why bother?)
in my memory
(which is as honest as my six year old sister (and as honest as i am in claiming to have one))
some chrome under all the soap-scum,
when i lie to myself,
i think that it could become something more.
so, i reiterate:
release or return my previous poem,
that i might
(to coin a paltry phrase)
scrub it with the literary equivalent of tub & tile
and see what lies beneath the splatters of mental toothpaste.