Life in a drawer…

Junk-Drawer-740x515I have this box into which all
odds-and-ends are sent to linger
and accrue value as mementos
until either called upon in the
rebirth of usefulness or muse or

discarded in the cleaning called
spring; clips, cuffs, children’s
lost teeth even, my father’s
gold pen, a large button from my
favorite coat once upon a time,
a too-fashionable tie bar, birthday
cards from my mother – all dated,
all Hallmarks, with special words
underlined for personalization (a
habit I picked up and enjoy being
mocked about by my children),

there are those tiny school photos,
three wallets worn with credit card
numbers still impressed in the
leather, a comb bent to the
shape of my posterior still; there’s
a mood ring that’s always black,
and a torn dollar bill that will
never be mended, an 1928 coin

from Ireland, collar stays, even
a slip of paper with 14R-08L-11R
in faded pencil from my high
school locker before I dropped
out, and there’s a pencil, yellow,
No.2, but just a stub with some
eraser remaining and it’s the only
thing without a reason to be in this
box, or at least a reason I recall.

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