He slid it open with some difficulty
every kitchen has one, the junk drawer
the detritus of our lives
useless bits of string, too short
rusting paper clips
rubber bands that crumble when touchedpins that once held a new shirt in its wrapper
an instruction book on how to operate a toaster?
who would need instructions for that?
the toaster itself long gone
little black pellets whose origin
he did not want to contemplate
an old three cent stamp
“antiques road show”? no!
and there among the clumps of dust and sesame seeds
what he was looking for
a gold ring
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