The Things You Left Behind

In the car you left behind
your coffee mug,
squat
black
shiny
like a pond frog.
I found it under the seat.

In the trunk you left behind
your papers,
thin
green
light as air.
You wrote upon them.
And I stole a glance at what you wrote.

On my hand you left behind
an impression,
squeezed
warm
tender
like a current of electricity.
It caught me by surprise.

In my heart you left behind
a crazy-quilt of feelings,
joyful
sad
confused.
Unable to make much sense of them
I’ll just tell you what I found there.

These are the things you left behind.
You must come and pick them up some time.