Boxes and Other Uneasy Things

Fountain, Yusuf Kidwai

Boxes are piled high, to the ceiling
They’re full of things I might never use
Boxes are from grocery stores
I’m too cheap to buy them
And coincidentally, the boxes are beside the door
waiting to be carried out
With me, and my suitcase, my life in a box
so portable, and disposable, waiting to be carried on
packed in a tiny car and down to the show
Seven hours, and I’ll be there, forever it’ll seem
until the boxes are filled again
and my life returns to this room; but it won’t be the same
cause I’ll just be a visitor, a guest or attendee
of what used to be my home, abode
These boxes are the looming reminder that in eight days
I leave here, for somewhere else
For knowledge, and parties, and argyle and books
The boxes don’t lie: soon it will be my time.

September 2, 2010 Blueprint Web Administrator No Comments

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