|By the Side of the Road|
I am a suitcase by the side of the road-
a novelist will write a story of me,
make up characters and truth
that will seem real.
A musician will sing of old leather,
things kicked to the curb,
forgotten and unloved.
A child will drag me into the brush,
open me, hunting for treasures
left behind but along with
a few quarters and a roll of $100 bills
that his parents will agonize over
then spend on his braces and a used mini van,
he will find a picture of a beautiful little girl
in a white dress, smiling at the camera as she
shields her eyes against a morning sun
and another of a woman spread eagle, naked -
both will fuel his newly fledged wet dreams,
becoming tangled in his head - the bride
and the whore woven tightly together.
Later, a mouse will make her nursery
in my depths, a stronghold against
rain and wind, with babies snuggled
against my walls.
When you drive past, you don't even see me.
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