My friend, she was telling me
How everything she owns can fit in five suitcases,
and how liberating that is.
I don’t think of my life in suitcases, but I think
I could part with everything that I own.
My mom gave me a framed painting
of the Brooklyn Bridge last Christmas.
Maybe I’ll take it with me to New York,
Maybe I’ll end up living near it,
Maybe I’ll end up living under it.
When I feel I have to sneeze,
I look up towards the light,
sometimes for so long that my eyes start to hurt.
Then I close them for a second
And I can see shapes bending
and crashing endlessly into each other.
I used to make a list at the end of each day,
of ten good things that happened that day.
Then I realized I couldn’t think of ten good things that happened,
and that some days I couldn’t even think of ten things that happened.
And I’m sick and tired of everyone telling me
That what I’m doing is bold and daring
When it’s the only thing I feel that I can do.
