Misplaced

I fell again
between the driver's side
and the gear shift.

You looked for me
eyes scanning bathroom counters
and couch crevices.

But alas
I wasn't where
you thought I
was

waiting for you
to notice
waiting for you
to feel

cool touch of my
silicon casing
only to discover
twenty-five cents
and toothpaste
don't add up
to the clean connectivity
of my numbered face

which is why I've
developed a homing beacon
I call it FINDER'S KEEPER
because I might have to
go home with a stranger
if you don't notice

the places
you're missing.