Every Night

the satchel lays under the bed,

packed for size,

just the essentials that later define a life,

right now,

well, just a bag with some assorted goods.

Put me on a freight heading west and it suddenly,

like the click-clack of the tracks,

becomes everything we own in the world,

leaving the rest behind.

~

I think if I could live my life that way,

I might be less afraid of what I know today,

more intrigued by that which lies ahead,

those moments,

the brush of a shoulder,

a stranger’s smile on a sunny morning,

whenever any thoughts before that smile,

became surrounded by worry,

concern, defeatist theory, the everyday

glass half-empty man.

~

I occasionally look at the bag underneath my bed,

and see it sort of smiling knowing I will never lead.