Changing Zip Codes

A poet who hates to pack

Moving day photo by Mark Tulin

My life’s been a game of musical chairs;
taking apart my wholeness,
and dividing it into boxes,
wrapping up the valuables,
marking them into categories
of specific destinations,
like the garage and master bedroom,
and watching the movers put dents in the walls,
and take long cigarette breaks.

Then driving to a strange home
where uncertainty lights up the sky,
mailboxes line the sidewalks
as far as the eye can see;
putting my world back together
and updating my current address
in a constantly changing recalibration.

Once there, I paint the walls a different color,
buy new furniture to match the floors,
add triple-pane windows
to keep out the street noise;
make sure the TV cable is working,
and that the light on my modem isn’t blinking.

And you’d think I could finally relax,
enjoy my new abode, but now my life is…