This becomes a getaway and I don’t ever return
To the banality of stuffing my face,
And then stuffing my day
With huff and puff of discarded emails,
And left overs from the day before.
How much shall be enough?
Can I not close my eyes and open them again to find you by my side?
Perhaps that can save me the anxiety of having to decide,
If one or two or three lipsticks shall be enough.
What can I take with me,
That’s not at all necessary?
Every inch of space inside my duffle bag has been accounted for,
And I can only carry so much on my hands.
I know mid travel I shall be getting wary,
Oh I think I left something behind.
I’m carrying so much.
Outside and Inside.