#103 Kevin Brophy 'Inventory'

These are my keys,

one each for bicycle,

car and house.

This is my notebook

of patient pages.

This is the pen

I worry about losing

and with it the pencil

that goes with eraser and sharpener.

This is my wallet of plastic cards

that relieve others of any fear

I might not be the one I say I am.

This is the shoulder bag

that goes everywhere with me.

This is the place in it where

my phone slips in, never

far from dying.

There is a place for mints.

Always there are the flimsy, crushed

receipts at the bottom, true record

of this small life.