Neck Tag

I saw the intern, fresh-faced,

her new lanyard bright around her neck.

Made me remember the drawer, a misplaced

box where my old ones waited, a speck

of forgotten conferences, badges past.

I dug one out, five years since then.

The fabric frayed, the plastic held fast,

yellowed and cracked, like old men's skin.

It smelled of recycled air and stale hope,

a corporate logo, faded, nearly gone.

Just a thin strip, at the end of its rope,

from a life I used to put on.