September 7, 2010

opening the road

Be clear-eyed with your packing. Vacuum with a sense of both duty

and love. Consider the last bits of laundry your allies, the fridge

cleanup, like a dock will nudge you offshore. Disregard the pretty

arrangement you might make of your towels. Cross the long bridge

of the front door eaves. Get into the car. Turn the key. Pay

strict attention to that first crosswalk, the old woman returning

from the bank, the toddler bobbling after his dad. This is not a day

for idle dreaming, or fickle absent-minded yearning.

And then: Release yourself into the wild. Unyoke each needless load.

No journey can begin without you opening the road.