tuesdae gave me the dentures, the first set,
and whichever home-bum left them sitting on that window ledge outside the bar on lexington ave must've surely been sorrier to lose them that i was glad to get them.
when they woke up hungover and toothless.
i could've put an add in the paper: found dentures.

but it doubtless would've hung like a
hotair balloon on the page
untethered and floating, weightless and
inside the joy:
unclaimed.
because show me a home-bum that seaches the morning paper
for his lost teeth?