Three Ways of Looking at a Bobby Pin
A prose poem
I. I left him with several things: a coffee mug, a batch of cookies, two loose screws from my laptop that fell to the floor when he was trying to fix it, a secret only a few people knew, several bobby pins. I think about those bobby pins sometimes, the ones left pressed between his sheets. Did he find them later and remember? Maybe, mere days after I left, he found one after…