These days it’s full of
To do lists,
Too many number
Two pencils for a world that writes in pen unless it types.
It’s scattered with guitar picks
And the instruction manual for a guitar I don’t play very well,
Especially for someone who hates instruction almost
As much as manuals.
A plum nail polish I wore too much and got tired of
Seeing on the hands I use to do everything
Except clean out this drawer, apparently.
Seven different brown hair ties of my own
And three black ones I borrowed
Permanently from my mother.
A key chain my grandma gave me
With a four leaf clover a
Five-year-old me pressed her thumb on
Six times for good luck.
A key that I would only presume is for a lock,
Though I don’t know which lock
So the key is useless.
And, though I am a consolidator in every other sense
And in every other cabinet, and I
Used to try to clean this one and
Used too much time trying,
Small parts of me I thought were left behind like that I’ve gotten
Used to it this way.
Wrote this poem for a workshop application a few months ago!
I love it too, kiddo. You have a beautiful mind!
I love it. Yes, everyone deserves one. messy “junk” drawer.