mmmmcmiii

Too Much Baggage

I know, I know, nobody
needs to remind me.
I’ve got too much baggage.

[This is when I spend
over an hour thinking back—
is this actual nostagia?—

remembering when I
was younger how any of 

the contents of the luggage

I carried around would
almost always seem to be 

of interest to many whom

I’d encounter, to most any

one I would, in order to 

get their attention, stand

in front of, wave my 

arms a little bit, or 

do any such thing that

might move their 

attention from whatever

it was they were doing

and wherever it was

they were going to

me.  However,

these days, exposing

even a tiny portion of
the mess I carry around

wherever I go at any

given moment that

someone might be 

around to notice 

seems anathema to 

garnering any sub

stantial engagement.]
So I’ve got a lot of
baggage. And I can live 

with that, I suppose. 

At last so long as I have
an idea—like even just

a general direction or

an estimated vicinity—

of my destination.  Of

where I’m going with 

all of it.