old stuff

some of my old stuff is special,
that’s why i keep it, plus -
i may need it someday.
that’s a possibility.

for sure, once i liked the objects,
enough to pile them around, pack ‘em in,
mixed with decoy common items.
that way my good stuff doesn’t stick out
and look obviously valuable.

it waits huddled in drawers.
including bells, knobs, hinges,
screws, levers, nuts and springs,
buttons, rope and wires,
wall hooks, unidentifiable gizmos and rulers,

in boxes, wooden, or cardboard.
on shelves, or piled in dark corners.
there’s chipped obsidian arrow heads,
beach shells, stones, bits of bones.
admittedly, some objects better than others,
all have been around the block.

souvenir pottery from Mexico,
old brushes that will be okay
if and when i clean ‘em some day.
worn shoes i may never wear again.
maps to locations i once thought to visit,
books, pamphlets from places no longer in business,
an old cowboy hat once treasured,
though i doubt i’ll ever have a horse
or be that young again.

yesterday i came upon two wooden coins,
one good for a beer at a bar burned down years ago.
on the other wooden coin is printed "one vote",
i know nothing more about it.
they are coins of equal non value.

the line between the good
and junky miscellaneous is fine,
a delicate distinction of subtle reason.

some objects that i hold
i’ll decide the fate of
some other season.

most things squirreled away,
though unimportant now,
evidently, upon a time,
once, had significance.