remember the winter gets cold in ways you always forget

i'd painted too many coats
over the rust, and the frame collapsed; my frame
finally just gave out, nearly exploded
in a cough of green flakes and grating metal.

i had been keeping halos in the glove compartment for some time,
but i saved them for holidays. the rest of the year
i forgot about them.
my mother had similarly treated her fine china
and her children. in both cases the unused entities
had grown so accustomed to the lack of handling
that they crumbled when touched.
for a few months we hired a maid to sweep away the fragments,
but when we couldn't afford her anymore,
the pieces collected under furniture and rugs.

i lost my drive long before i broke down.
as bits of paint and rust,
i got farther on the wind than i could have ever made it
on my own. i should have fallen apart sooner.