Swept up in the last row of the balcony of an old movie palace with crushed red velvet chairs:
• one crumbled ticket for Gone in 60 Seconds,
• a golden tub with unspoken kernels
and a hole big enough for the popcorn trick,
• three invisible blonde hairs from a future wife.
Thrown away from the backseat of a screaming yellow taxi:
• the left corner piece of an hand printed
Our House poster held at a Antonio Delgado
swearing in rally,
• a cocktail napkin with vibrant lipstick smears
from Snapper Magee’s,
• the hardened remains of a McFlurry with nuts
dribbled from fingers kissed.
Tossed in with the other drawstring containers in a green curbside bin in front of the family house for Eileen:
• the price tag for a Blue Nile Studio
Petite French Pavé Crown
Diamond Engagement Ring
in Platinum and another for
• a Cowboy wedding band,
• seven revised proposals
written on a yellow legal pad,
• two more on what to say to her father.
Discarded in the same bin nine months later:
• the unwoven knittings of an Afghanistan war widow— scarves, gloves, a camouflage hat with pom-poms.
Found in the dumpster of the Royal Pavillon Wedding Hall after the nuptials of Frank and Jane:
• a wedding program printed
on aged-look parchment,
• the crumbles of a three tier wedding cake-
the first layer tiramisu,
the second white chocolate mousse,
the third a carrot cake without walnuts
for the food allergen prone,
• monogrammed napkins with
FM/JO printed in baby’s breaths blue
in the right hand corner,
• the broken heel of
an imitation Manolo Blahnik,
• the wilting petals of red roses and dahlias.
Found covered up in baby shower wrapping paper left at the curb of Jane and Frank’s House:
• a paint sample card
with five shades of little blue,
• a lab report with a positive diagnosis,
• a broken rattle,
• a pacifier with a torn nipple,
• a dirty diaper,
• a mother’s tears in a folded napkin,
• a father’s regretful words
buried deep on a thumbnail drive.
Among the detritus of their house with a FOR SALE sign:
• The unneeded gem paper clip
after the dissolution papers
had been stapled and signed,
• five forgive me reminders
written on 3×5 index cards,
• a yellow post-it note with NEVER!
written on top of them,
• all their photo albums
enshrouded in vellum binders.
Noticed in the elevated trash bins at the cemetery where Jane is to be buried:
• the printed out e-mail excuses
for those who heard but
were too busy to come,
• the dirt off the hands
of those who did,
• the soiled paper plates of
those who ate at the wake.
The things left behind at Frank’s potter’s funeral:
• no one,
• not a thing.