I stare at your backpack, hoping for change.
It’s a strange feeling when that happens,
when you know that someone will come back
but they just haven’t.
No, but they might. I suppose they have to if they’re ever going to get work done.
But do they even want to?
Maybe they left their backpack alone because
they knew what it was and what it meant:
and they didn’t want any of that.
Not yet, anyway.
But some day they will have to come back in get it.
Or someone will have a great day at the Salvation Army.
Either way, it seems to me that someone will win eventually.
But for now I suppose I will just sit back and watch your backpack
knowing that you will come at some point. Or if not you, then someone else.