Verse
I lost my keys on Tuesday
Or possibly last June
I checked beneath the sofa
And interrogated every room
Then someone gave me an address
In handwriting rather small
Said, “Try the Department of Misplaced Things
They probably have them all”
Verse
The building had no number
The lift had thirteen floors
A woman with an hourglass
Was sweeping by the doors
She said, “Take a ticket, fill this out
And please describe your loss”
I said, “Three keys and a bottle opener”
She said, “That narrows nothing, boss”
Chours
At the Department of Misplaced Things
Nothing disappears
We’ve got buttons, boats and wedding rings
And seventeen thousand years
Of things you meant to put somewhere
But somehow never did
At the Department of Misplaced Things
We know exactly where you hid
Verse
There were umbrellas from restaurants
And gloves without their mates
A room of unreturned phone calls
Arranged by names and dates
There were punchlines nobody remembered
And recipes from aunts
And several million good intentions
Still waiting for their chance
Verse
I saw a rack of childhood nicknames
A drawer marked “Things Unsaid”
A warehouse full of arguments
That sounded better in your head
There were people’s former principles
In boxes tied with string
And underneath a dusty tarp
The summers of nineteen-seventeen
Chours
At the Department of Misplaced Things
Nothing disappears
We keep the words you nearly said
For forty-seven years
The courage that you almost found
The train you nearly caught
At the Department of Misplaced Things
We even catalogue forgot
Bridge
The clerk looked down her spectacles
And quietly said my name
She disappeared between the shelves
And presently she came
With one small box, quite ordinary
A little worse for wear
She put it gently on the desk
And said, “You left this here”
verse
I said, “I’ve never seen that box”
She said, “Most people say the same”
The label had my birthday
And underneath, my name
Inside were several foolish plans
A map drawn in green pen
And someone absolutely certain
Who I would have been by ten
Chours
At the Department of Misplaced Things
Nothing disappears
Not the person you imagined
Before you learned your fears
Not the ridiculous inventions
Not the kingdoms in your room
Not the certainty that something
Quite remarkable would happen soon
Verse
I asked her what it cost me
She said, “Nothing. Take it home”
I reached across the counter
But she wouldn’t let it go
“There’s one condition,” she explained
And pushed a form to me
“You have to prove the thing you lost
Is something you still need”
Pre-Chours
So I left without my bottle opener
And I never found my keys
I forgot my scarf upon the chair
And possibly my knees
But underneath my arm I carried
That battered little thing
Chours
From the Department of Misplaced Things
Where nothing disappears
Where they keep the lives we nearly lived
Beside the souvenirs
And if you lose your way someday
They’ll have it filed somewhere
At the Department of Misplaced Things
Ask for the woman with the hair
and perhaps Fritz will meet you there.
