I walk past the U-haul just down the street
with its painted scene of icons from another state
One they’d never even visited
But wouldn’t it be nice they think
as they are going down their long checklist
getting almost ready for blast-off
They’re pretty worn out
it shows in how they’ve lost the spring in their step
and how they grunt a little every time they bend over
I know the feeling
I’ve been where they are and it’s no piece of cake
although youth will let them get over it
this long day of cleaning away any signs of their existence
it’ll be like they were never here
filling holes with spackle           polishing surfaces               getting into corners
checking one last time for evidence left behind
Oh so weary from
lifting and carrying and putting things
where they’d fit ‘perfectly’ on the truck
And wrapping them                tying them down           
murmuring a final prayer as added insurance
So nothing breaks or dents or scratches
when they will go over hills, around bends, and
find potholes.

The truck is full now
every which way
even the car with overflow or whatever’s extra delicate
plus the dog who cannot comprehend the new world he’ll soon inhabit
In fact there’s more stuff than any human needs
or should have to worry about
and protect
It’s in these moments when an epiphany can occur
wondering why they’d ever acquired this painting
this lamp
That shiny kitchen appliance and oh so many books
And the germ of an idea
comes to life
to soon get rid of this or that
expeditiously     by any means possible
Vowing never to lug or deal with it again!
Getting oddly excited by
the calm promises of the new priests
of minimalism and order
making a mental note
Then snapping out of it
pulling down the door and throwing a kiss at the old place
while vowing no regrets and to never look back.
Motor revs up                         raring to go go go.

It’s a familiar American scene
And if you zoom in closer you’ll spot
some drops of blood
from minor wounds that are bound to happen
in the midst of uprooting
the fragrance of sweat
from labor with a sun that wouldn’t give an inch
and the inevitable tears of goodbye
Expressing pretty desires to meet again
but knowing the chances were slim.
While exhausted they are upbeat
albeit nervously so
they’re throwing the dice about the future
That the next place
on down the road
across the proverbial bridge and border they will cross
gambling it will be their new
heaven on earth
that the grass will be greener on that other side
Meanwhile I give a sigh of relief
and walk and walk and walk
on this grass right here           lifting nothing             going nowhere
but I wish them well
hoping that they land smoothly
And that their highest hopes for joy
for domestic bliss in another space.
do come true.
Faithful truck lumbers away
going               going               and finally gone.


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