the napkin in his coat pocket

when he died, we went

through

his pockets,

his pants, his coat,

his shirt.

we found lists

and notes.

reminders of some sort,

to change the furnace

filter or

to change

the oil

in his car.

coins and bills.

a nail clipper and a comb.

breath mints.

there were

grocery lists.

milk and bread, the rest.

and then we

found this.

a napkin folded

neatly over

with the imprint of

a lipstick kiss.

red.

no number, no name.

but fresh.