Tuesday, September 13, 2011

I found a wallet

I found a wallet

Inside were pictures of your small family
You were so young, your hair dark brown
You had been born in 1953
Your winter birthday was stamped on the plastic
Of a license so recently expired

I was so tired as I walked through my door
I let all the contents of your wallet on the floor

And like a holy relic

Or a mystery novel
I thumbed them in the dim light
Searching for a clue-

A Blockbuster card,
An old stick of Juicy Fruit
A crumpled receipt for a pair of leather boots

I have no wallet,

I have no wallet

I keep my cards together with a blue rubber band
And with a free hand I search in my pocket
For pieces of

pieces of paper and change

I'll take your wallet

To my local Blockbuster
They'll find your number
in their computer

You'll never know me
I'll never know you

But you will be so happy


When they call you up. 

Emma, darling Emma. Rest in peace.

I'll miss you.

The curtain is lowered slowly on Emma's stage, one final time.

I sweep off the stage, turn off the lights, and

lock the doors

one final time.


  1. ...
    I think we're going to miss her too.

  2. Then again, memory is a volatile thing.

    Every show has its intermission.