Permanent Elastic

I found it fossilized under the estate sale chair,

a hard, grey knot of someone else's nerves.

I used my house key in the rainy, evening air

to scrape the sidewalk of its jagged curves.

It’s a peppermint ghost, a discarded thought

pressed flat by the weight of a thousand heels.

I wonder what battle the original owner fought

while they chewed through the way a panic feels.

It won’t dissolve and it won't let go,

stuck to the pavement like a stubborn mistake.

There are things we leave behind that we don't even know,

and things we carry that we can't manage to shake.