wallet

i found a wallet, i found a wallet, inside were pictures of your small family, you are so young, your hair dark brown, you had been born in 1953, your winter birthday, was stamped on the plastic, of a license so recently expired, i was so tired as i walked in my door, i laid all the contents of your wallet on the floor, like a holy relic, or a mystery novel, i thumbed them in the dim light, searching for a clue, a blockbuster card, an old stick of juicy fruit, a crumpled receipt, from a pair of leather boots, i have no wallet, i have no wallet, i keep my cards together, with a blue rubber band, and with a free hand, i search in my pocket, for pieces of, pieces of paper and change, i'll take your wallet, to my local blockbuster, they'll find your number, in their computer, you'll never know me, and i'll never know you, but you'll be so happy, when they call you up