A suitcase filled with a place that I no longer connect with
or exist within
It’s strange to me how a place can absorb me
and as soon as I leave it continues unflinching
The clerk at the grocery store down the street from my jungle home
will continue to stack shelves and work the register.
As I write this, I imagine the parrots are squawking and the people are moving to the soundtrack of the lively jungle that surrounds them.
Nothing stops just because I’m not there to witness it anymore.
Life continues on with or without me
I’m ready to trade out these clothes for something more appropriate
I sift through boxes, exchanging the shorts and bikinis
for wool socks and beanies.
I once believed home could be anywhere
but I’m beginning to understand that belief to be flawed
and that home, to me
can only exist if I have
the mountains to greet me
the river to cleanse me
and you to kiss me.