I was looking for a rubber band

I was looking for a rubber band.

The drawer stuck the way it always sticks,

and when I yanked it past the catch

the tag came up with the twist ties and the coupons—

aluminum, the size of a quarter,

the name pressed in so long ago

it's more a feeling now than letters.

I had to hold it close to read it.

The metal was warm.

That's the part I keep coming back to.

Not the date stamped underneath,

not the name going soft at the edges—

the warmth. From being buried under everything.

Like the drawer had been keeping it for me.

I set it on the counter.

Found the rubber band.

Went back to what I was doing.

Three minutes, maybe four.