i once thought i was a grocery list, tried and true, with things like eggs, cheese, milk and bread all diligently crossed off in the order they were shopped. but the list was left in the bottom of brown paper bag now being used to hold recyclables and really, if i was a grocery list, i would hope i would get tenderly folded and placed in your back pocket for future eggs, cheese, milk and bread trips.
i also thought i was a black feather boa, bought at a button-and-fabric shop for $7 on fashion avenue, that has been slung over a wooden coat rack along with impulsively bought purses, hats, and yes, coats that you never wear. as a feather boa, i was worn while you sang copacabana at a lounge on restaurant row but it was clear you pined for yellow feathers in your hair and a dress cut down to there.
finally, i once was positive i was the deluxe, blue leather-bound edition of nabakov's pale fire with a frayed blue satin ribbon in the binding to mark the place you couldn't wait to read outloud to your true love in the bathroom while he showered and you sat on the toilet seat waiting to go to another dumb dinner where people would say everything was "fabulous" and "marvelous" and it usually wasn't.