Bulletin Board

Pasted papers on the lumpy wall.
share all we have not done
with the people whose shadows
we dream of climbing.

All of our cherished crumpled papers
fall under the sweaty waterfall of wine.
The television gets wet and electrocutes
our ability to extend our personalities.

The objects I hold know my name,
but I do not even know if they exist.
I do not even know if an absence
is holding my presence.