A Saint for the lost

I think he lives in San Antonio

Anthony of Padua, the patron saint of lost things, please look after

the plant I accidentally killed when we were first married when Jesse left for a work trip to New Orleans. Please look after the fish, too. Also an accident.

Harper's car keys

the squirrels Corby ends. The groundhogs, too.

the one hundred dollars I sent to a fake someone promising me flat abs. Yes, I know it was stupid. Yes, I know I know better. 

my confidence

my flat abs

the coffee that dripped all over the counter because I neglected to put a mug under the Nespresso machine

OK so maybe my mind, too. Although, I'd like to think I'll find it. I'd like to think it's still with me.

Mr. Saint Anthony, please look after all my lost things,
the ones that aren't mine anymore
the ones I know about and
the ones I've forgotten