Saturday, February 4, 2012


“Living out of a suitcase” © Mike Absalom January 24th
2012

In order not to pressure you
to commit yourself
I visit your bedroom as I
would visit a hotel lobby,
with my bags always packed.
Of course from the first you
always had me eating out of your hand
but I never imagined that
after all these years
I would still be living out
of a suitcase.

A bedroom is a place that
some people think is for sleeping
although that is the kind of
bedtime story
that had never occurred to me
until I met you.
A bed had always presented
itself to me
as a kind of well-sprung
signpost,
but each day I notice that on
yours the lettering changes,
and rearranges itself into
yet another incomprehensible riddle.

In autumn when the season
starts to pack for its winter journey
I find myself worried by the
ticking seconds of airborne dandelion seed.
I wonder if the content of my
suitcase is timeless
or whether there is a black
and white bar code printed in there somewhere
that conceals a sell-by date.

In order not to pressure you
to commit yourself however,
I visit your bedroom as I
would visit a hotel lobby,
with my bags always packed.
Of course I know you love me.
For now anyway.
But I never imagined that
after all these years
I would still be loving out
of a suitcase.

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