The Blue Band

Found it in a sock drawer,

crumbled near some old receipts.

A faded blue plastic strap,

showing where the ink bled out.

Remember lying there,

watching the ceiling fan spin,

feeling that sticky paper cling,

a number stuck to your skin.

It wasn't a name they wrote,

not truly, not the whole thing.

Just a barcode, a label,

for whatever they were fixing.

And that week, I was just that.

A thing with a tag on it,

waiting for the next step,

not really mine to claim.