A Memory

Inanimate things

are dependent upon us

to have memory.

Socks know it’s their job,

whenever they’re in the dryer,

to ditch their partner.

The end table leg

cannot recall what it did

to deserve your kicks.

The stove worries that

you will doubt you turned it off

once you are airborne.

Car keys remember

to be inconspicuous

when you’re running late.

The torn plastic bag

holding your carton of eggs

hid its flaw in shame.

The roll of TP

forgot to mention it’s low.

But you’ll soon find out.

It’s only when we

project experiences

that stuff comes alive.