Notes and the Box
I once wrote a note and put it in a box
It lived with the rocket I built with my Dad
The rocket’s wing was broken
Years later I wrote another note alone
It went in the leather fold next to the bill
The family together
The first note came after the unmooring split
It threatened me as an unbearable end
My young life not yet unmoored
The box has no cat, only the unread note
Truly, I will never know of its reader
If such a person exists
I now know the meaning of being unmoored
So I wrote the second note to the father
Who sat, spoke with his children
They did word problems together as a team
Like I had done once with the model rocket
In the basement with my Dad
It could be a contractor read the first note
While readying the basement for a resale
Or it maybe became trash
It could be the waitress threw the note away
Thinking it odd to pass to the family
Or it could’ve been treasured
I’ll never know what the notes meant to others
They left my control when I set down the pen
But I know how they helped me
