Poem #33: To Moving

To Moving

You make me wish for fewer books. Should I
just give them all away? A bald man in a bar
once told me that taking books along
when you move is foolish. He had more money
than I did, and twin step-daughters, too, but I
ignored him all the same. After all, I like the
smell that book-filled cardboard boxes leave in my
hands when I’ve carried them up three
flights of stairs. I cut packing tape with kitchen
knives and revel in the presents I send myself
from the past via UPS, but what’s with all the taco
seasoning? I’ve never made tacos before, let’s
be serious with each other. Moving, is it true
that only death and public speaking cause
more stress than you? Maybe you should lighten
up, come around less often – I don’t know, take
a vacation. You two are related, right? You both
cost money I don’t have. At least a vacation gives
back. No, you’re right – without you, I’d never have
seen a South Dakota sunset, or the Baseball
Hall of Fame. Still, you insist upon yourself.
Have you ever thought of bringing places
to people, instead of… Ah, forget it. We’ve got
a nice thing going, I’d hate to mess it up, lest
you leave me behind for good, and why would I
want to be stuck forever in Los Angles when
you still haven’t shown me Denmark or Paris?

@NBF 5.20.2009

DSC02721_2

NYC, 2006

——————–

Notes

I’m moving to Chicago pretty soon and have just about had it with the moving process, so I thought I’d write a Koch Address to “moving” and show it who’s boss.

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