I pay no attention,
instead give it freely.

I offer no fresh comfort,
instead will help find 
comfort which has been
misplaced.

If a mystery’s
preferable, I stop
solving.  
If it later needs
a solution, I fade
toward a clue before 
vanishing.

Unnecessary, extra,
useless man.  
That’s the whole point.
I have never yearned
to be
of service.
Toss me today
or tomorrow
as a luxury or a
hanger-on,
please.  But

some of what’s
been made here,
some of the smalls
you finger incessantly 
in your pockets,
you could do without,
yet
you don’t. 

You savor them
and think twice
about facing
struggle without them
though they offer no 
advantage in war.
You never leave
the house without them.
A house is not a home
without them.