Passage

I left my sleeve in New Orleans
no one bothered to pick it up
with my worn sandles and my heavy backpack
people just stare
my sleeve still in New Orleans
no tag
no identifying mark
I shouldve stitched my middle name on the innards
motivating one to foward it to my block
I shouldve asked advice before i packed my red sack
full of junk
now I arrived at what i thought was the end
no sleeve and a bag full of rut
I shouldve known this wouldnt last
but i had to come back
you led me here sleeveless
familiar glances being tossed my way
back to New Orleans I go
but this time ill arrive with your sleeve
and a pot full of luck