Perhaps this poem should be called "And I still have two months (and less) to go."
Started impulsively
compiling lists
between classes
of things to be taken
and things to be left behind.
Most of my things fall into basic categories,
yet others are mentioned all alone. And yet
everything in this world can be put down on a piece of paper.
What’s funny is I won’t forget these things.
I just had to write them
in that familiar perspective.
Like from a plane
glancing down.
