Found In The Dark

This old wool coat, smells like damp dog

and someone’s faint pipe tobacco.

I bought it last fall, a bargain, fog

on the windows when I tried it on.

Today my hand went down the pocket lining,

deep, past a loose thread, past the sewing.

And brushed against something folded,

crinkled, a piece of paper, old.

Faded ink, or maybe just dirt.

I can’t quite make it out.

Whose pocket was this?

Whose forgotten scrap?