Annie M. Rice Lost	back to table of contents back to main

Last Christmas, dad gave me this weird key chain.
Blue–no, turquoise I guess.

I lost it, along with the keys to my car,
          my apartment,
                    and my parents' backdoor.

Smoking janitors with gravelly voices
helped me retrace
          Algebra,
                    History,
                              the bathroom,
                                        English.

Nope, we'll call you.
Keep checking.

I lost Scott too-
Somewhere between Algebra
          and college.

What's the cliché?
Head not screwed on?

I hate losing things.
It's inconvenient and annoying and you can't listen to the radio.
It hurts and you cry and you throw things.

I wonder what happened to them.
Who has them now?
Resourceful,
          I find a kiosk at the mall,
                    and my friend's boyfriend's cousin
                              -on his mother's side.

And I walk through
          Philosophy,
                    Sociology,
                              and Art History
                                        with a backpack full of replacements.

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