Inventory

The blue lights were spinning behind me

while I dug through the plastic graveyard.

A crumpled napkin from a burger place

was stuck to a map of a city I left.

I found the registration under a fuse,

buried by things I didn't know I kept.

It’s a shallow hole for the small regrets—

a broken charger, a handful of pennies,

and the smell of old paper and cold air.