Found you in the corner Of the coffee place I like Bent spine One bent wire Little puddle by your side Tag from some department store Half torn Half trying to hide Who forgot you here On a thunder Friday night Leftover umbrella Waiting on a stranger’s storm You don’t know my name But you keep my shoulders warm I give you a new hallway You give me a dry walk home Leftover umbrella Guess we’re both not used to being chosen Handle chipped from hurry Tiny teeth marks near the edge Someone must’ve used you As they paced and bit and stressed I pop you open on the sidewalk You cough out drops of yesterday Carry all those old gray clouds As we cross my street today If I leave you on a train seat Will you start another life Guarding someone else’s haircut From another sudden sky Or will I keep you by the front door Leaning on the welcome mat Little relic of a stranger Who forgot what they once had
