found amid the rolls
of gift wrap:
a Trader Joe’s receipt
from December 23rd
eight years ago, and
I see that I bought
three bags of organic
tortilla chips, two each
of walnut pieces and flatbread
crackers, and a bounty
of butter, and Harold
was still alive, and
my mother,
and Elaine, and
Robert, and Estelle
was still in
her right mind,
and the kids were
still living at home,
and Ruggles was
still a fetching pup
but now sighs
an old-man sigh
on the blanket
at my feet.