The Bottom of my Bag

At the bottom of my bag
Are many things I should discard –
Such a mound of crumpled tissues
They’d be hard to disregard;

Some expired Metrocards and stubs
From movies I have seen
And a little bag of pretzels
Given out at Halloween.

There’s a boarding pass from my last trip,
A pen that has no ink
And a business card from someone
With a website name and link.

There are sticky, half-wrapped cough drops
And receipt upon receipt;
Add my make-up case and wallet
And the contents are complete.

When my bag goes on my shoulder
It will also hold my phone,
Which provides an explanation
Why to muscle aches I’m prone.

Still, I’ll clean it out tomorrow
But I know what happens then –
Just one crumpled tissue later
And the pile begins again.