And if I’d forgotten my wallet,
as I am oh so prone to doing,
I’d dig through the crumpled receipts at the bottom of my bag,
past the fork I left in there
so I wouldn’t have to steal a spoon from a friend for pasta,
and the pop tabs I swear I’m going to make something with one of these days.
I’d find some loose change,
forgotten toonies and loonies
from buying chocolate with friends at the shop,
and press them into your hands,
hoping it was enough
to cover the paperback you pull from the stack and offer me.
I’d do anything,
as long as it meant I could take
a piece of your soul home with me.