Combination

The new luggage lock has a plastic feel,

So my fingers go back to the pebbled steel

Of a hallway in ninety-eight, cold and loud,

When I was just a ghost in a teenage crowd.

Right to the twenty, then left past the four,

I can still feel the click of that heavy door.

I can’t find my keys or the bills I should pay,

But the ghost of that dial won’t go away.