On the floor near my filing cabinet lay an oily looking black wig.

The files themselves appeared undisturbed,
but the malevolent collection of letters
_____from my mother to her sister
no longer lay on top of my "to be filed" pile.
Like the collection of passports
(made by a couple of arrogant young illustrators with dead white faces)
that Gunter kept in the bowels of a thai silk pillow
that lay as if carelessly thrown
in the backseat of his silver mercedes,
these letters were ______of questionable authenticity.