There is a crease below the knot
of my tie, today:  evidence

of interaction
in the days before
the new year.

I discover a dusty sheen–
flesh-colored, seemingly
alive–in the grey blue
of my eyes, in the silk
of this tie

and as I wait
for the next life
to begin, 

as I wait
to interview
a new me,

you are there
or the remnant of
you is there.

All of you.

I wipe the fabric.
I press the crease.

I walk forward
and leave
the past

behind.