you never know

she saved

every paper and plastic bag

she ever got,

because,

who knows,

stuffing them

behind the microwave,

in the pantry,

the crack between the stove

and fridge.

who knows when they might

be needed.

she felt the same

way about rubber

bands,

and paper clips,

nails and screws of all sizes.

the receipts from

everything she bought,

because who knows.

and all those

shoes

for all kinds of weather,

hardly any room any more

for them all

beneath the bed,

but,

who knows.

and the magazines stacked

tall, Look and Life,

National

Geographic, she'd read them all,

but then again,

maybe she might want to read

them once more,

who knows.

you never know.