That Forever Bag

That Forever Bag

a baggie of advil, crushed and processed like
tender buttons, a dozen teddy bear eyes dissolving
like chalk in rain – damaged headphones, two
left channels broken, mute dangly black
doubled – blue zippers shark-teeth layered
atop each other, bagtightening power: expandable
things contract; reporter’s book grids spill over
the bar, graphing the location of each whiskey
droplet – sugary nodules particulate with detergent
in the bottom of bags: no cleaning agent stays
trapped in the bottle; “of course you end up
becoming yourself” with a red metal pen
and a meat receipt – crocodiles crawl
on the case, but I didn’t pay that much
for them – paper eggs on money books,
registers in fullness, the sign of rain,
of sleet, of snow nor hail glaring predatory
from my backside: sleek, fleet.