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A Can of Coke with Juan
(Well, Diet Coke, because I care about my health, I guess)

One day in July as I attended the thrift store donation door, I received a strange give-away:
Several black garbage bags of a seventeen-year-old boy’s belongings that his family couldn’t stand to keep, nor did they want to throw away. 

The first item of which I took note 
was an unopened can of Coke, 
As part of the company’s campaign taking advantage of our love of our names, 
the unopened can in the bag read, “Share a Coke with Juan,” and I thought, “Okay.” 

Welcoming a pause 
I went to the breakroom and got a can of Coke to have while sorting through 
the leftovers of a life gone too soon

He had a recent high school diploma and a drivers’ license – his first adult identification
As well as name tags from the past twelve years of his education
He had cards from his friends who, with my rudimentary Spanish I could tell, 
praised his character and wished him well. 
Soccer was a game in which he excelled, 
For he had a large collection of beautiful first-place medals. 
He even had a letter to put on his jacket
But it seems that never happened. 
He had a nice watch and some trinkets from a trip to Disney
As well as a bow-tie, and at the bottom of the garbage bag I could see
There was a new credit card and new bank card that fell out of his donated wallet
And there were papers he filled out for the military and college
But now it’s all just water under the bridge

I put his certificates and cards and medals in a bag and hid them away
Hoping his family may call, and his belongings reclaim
But one day I came in and it was all gone
Just sent on – but at least I had my Coke with Juan.

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