The weather in Miami is
\nClear, winds light, eighty-two degrees and
\nThe weather outside my house is
\nDrop-ass dreary dull dreadful depressing
\nAnd the weather in my heart is
\nPumping up a high pressure storm
\n\u2014 which is really kind of strange
\nSince high pressure is for good weather:
\nAll clear, barometer rising, clear sailing . . .<\/p>\n
But this pressure is the inverse: Whether it\u2019s an overnight or New Zealand I just want to call it off and go back to yesterday yesterweek yestermonth yesteryear.<\/p>\n Just writing this is a wrench . . .<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The weather in Miami is Clear, winds light, eighty-two degrees and The weather outside my house is Drop-ass dreary dull dreadful depressing And the weather in my heart is Pumping up a high pressure storm \u2014 which is really kind … Continue reading
\nA kind of panic that grips me overwhelms me<\/a>
\nShelves my self-control, fists my heart \u2014 all this
\nWhen I have to leave familiar good old home.<\/p>\n
\nI feel as if I am preparing for my own funeral
\nOr PhD dissertation or another cystoscopy
\nOne of those \u201cDon\u2019t you hate it when that happens?\u201d \u2014
\nSo the mind that can do all the things I do
\nGets hung up on the enigma of
\nHow many pairs of socks?
\nDo I need warmer sweaters?
\nDamn, can I fit all this in one suitcase?
\nDon\u2019t pack water bottles in the suitcase, you mutt!
\nDon\u2019t think of all the times you screamed inside while loading
\nToo much: overload \u2014 every tearful farewell,
\nEvery heartwrenching separation \u2014
\nGoodbye, Daddy (on the train platform, at the door, at the cemetery)
\nGoodbye little guy, my love, my heart, my home, my Mom;
\nGoodbye childhood, cottage, canoe, sun, health, youth . . .
\nDrag out a suitcase \u2014 brain, synapses, memories, emotions; you name it.<\/p>\n