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.