Return to sender

EVERYTHING is going in the envelope
all the trinkets and body washes
the weekend long supply of Circle K drugs
those pants that don’t fit right
electrolyte beverages to support hydration
that movie quote about being a girl, in front a boy, asking him to love her
sad old country songs
Chinese food to go
the clean sheets and the dirty ones dead in the laundry basket
novelty as a marketable experience
a glue gun, some tape, and a sewing kit 
as many circular mirrors as we can find
the last working compass
my stupid fucking dancing shoes
used ink cartridges
a shower after a flight
that moment when you lock eyes from across the room and you think you know them but actually they just look like someone else whose name you can’t remember or where you possibly could have met them
an open window on a Saturday night
cheap cigarettes
the paper clip from Microsoft Word 
games kids used to play at summer camp
my undying love, ten thousand years
and a graduation card
I’m sending it to the hospital where I was born
to save me some time