Lost Things

You’ve found your pencil tucked
neatly behind your ear. You’ve found
your hat on your head, your glasses
on your face, and your keys in your hand.

Little pieces of your body go numb
once they’ve got their flesh pressed
with crisp, vigilant, purpose.

You’ve fallen out of love this way.
You’ve lost God this way.
You’ve given up on your dreams like this.

Your hands moved up to your face
charged with purpose and found it
vandalized with pen, pencil, hat,
glasses, earrings, and a cigarette.

Your hands took them all down
and held them up in a pile, while you
waited to remember why they were there.