This is a good bag I say out loud to myself,
alone. I’m cleaning out my coat pockets
which I try to do at least once a month
but don't always get around to. I don't know
what I do those months when I don't
clean out my pockets. Or where I'm losing my time
to whatever’s keeping me
from cleaning out my pockets. There are
six pockets in this coat. I use four of them
at most: the two side pockets
are for bags and rubber bands. The left
breast pocket is where I carry matches. The right
inside zipper pocket I rarely use,
and if so then only for things I don't need
or don’t mind forgetting, like business cards
of people I’ll never meet again. A clean-out day
like today is when I find business cards.
I trace my mind back to some business event
where I drank too much and didn’t leave
a good impression. I scan cards
and try to remember faces. I even made notes
on some of the cards. This one reads
‘woman with mole.’ This one, ‘guy who sells pickles
at market.’ The other two pockets
inside along the coat’s side flanks are diagonal
to one another in lengthwise cuts. I don't use
the inside pockets. When I was a kid
my coat had two pockets. I kept my hands
in them and waited for the bus in the cold. The bus
was always late. My hands
balled in tight fists as I waited. Once the bus
took its slow turn around the corner
toward the stop in front of my house,
I’d take one hand out of one pocket and wave
to everyone I knew.
*photo credit: https://unsplash.com/photos/sh...