My History At A Glance Poem by James Walter Orr

If I were crossing on the street;
Struck down then by a passing car;
My pockets emptied out real neat
Down where they check out who you are.
A worn out wallet at my hip,
A brass doo-dad, loose change and key
A transit pass, with one more trip,
My Levi's worn out at the knee.
A card, directed to my wife,
I had not yet placed in the mail;
My only prize, my pocket knife;
The only friend to never fail,
All laid out neatly, so we see,
My total lifetime history.



If, as just said, by chance I die,
And one would write my history;
And know just who I am and why,
Or write a brief biography:
Some small doo-dad of solid brass;
No one knows just what you call it;
A metro transit one-day pass
And an empty worn out wallet.
One could read all my history
And see just how my life was spent:
Loose change, Case knife, a broken key,
Plus one last postcard still unsent;
A sense of humor geared to laugh,
To write a fitting epitaph.