Red enameled alligator encases three
cloth sacks of unified survival.  Beneath zipper
#1 waits five nickels, bottle of glittered nail
polish, miniature journal, handful of pens, only
one still wearing cap.  Skip #2, it is stuck
shut and whatever is in there has been labeled
unnecessary and forgotten.  #3 never closes,
most-used, most-important, must remain
accessible, always.  Checkbook teeters
against tightly-capped Crazy
Glue, shades sunglasses from potential scuffs
from engraved silver cardholder, coupon folder, ring
of 37 keys, only 3 having known locks or ignitions
to turn.  Ringing requires perimeter check.  Pockets
bulge, aspirin and birth control semi-hidden
in tightly-snapped front pocket, portable
hard drive and note cards on Roman Architecture
threaten to spill out of left side pouch.  Right
must be the never-ending musical bleeping,
incessant blipping of latest high-tech, supposedly
miniaturized, iPhone, trying to pass itself
off as both computer and lifeline when it is really
more crutch and anvil.  Last stop, strap with photo
keyring dangling attachment.  Favorite snapshot
of herself smiling at the world, makes everyone wonder
who or what was making her laugh that hard.

A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida. She has previously published six collections of poetry all available on Amazon.com. She has also published her work in numerous national and international literary journals. She has is the editor for six online poetry journals for Kind of a Hurricane Press . Find more about A.J. Huffman, including additional information and links to her work at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000191382454 and https://twitter.com/#!/poetess222.