SECOND HAND
He filled his life
With things that had
Belonged to somebody else
Clothes from the thrift store
Shaped by the bones
Of the person they once adorned
Books with creased pages
And yellowing paper
On the verge of falling apart
Records that skipped
In the hearts of songs
Until graven within his mind
And a map of the world
As it used to be
A century or more ago
With nations that now
Were havens of ghosts
Lost in the winds of time
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