The Bottom of My Bag

At the bottom of my bag Are many things I should discard – Such a mound of crumpled tissues They’d be hard to disregard; Some expired Metrocards and stubs From movies I have seen And a little bag of pretzels Given out at Halloween. There’s a boarding pass from my last trip, A pen that has no ink And a business card from someone With a website name and link. There are sticky, half-wrapped cough drops And receipt upon receipt; Add my make-up case and wallet And the contents are complete. When my bag goes on my shoulder It will also hold my phone, Which provides an explanation Why to muscle aches I’m prone. Still, I’ll clean it out tomorrow But I know what happens then – Just one crumpled tissue later And the pile begins again.