Prisoners of Baggage
We settle down because after years of collecting baggage it's too heavy to carry around.
But we bring these bags to the ones we settle with.
And they open it up every night they can't sleep, looking for something, even if they aren't sure what that something is.
And many times they find it. The myserious thing that can come in many forms. In letters, in photos, in pantyhose and torn blouses. Many times they find it. They find it and they wonder.
And that voice inside them tells them: Don't confront. Don't be jealous. Sit and sift. And let it eat you up inside. Wonder.
We settle down because after years of collecting baggage it's heavy enough to throw on top of someone so that they can't wander.
But we bring these bags to the ones we settle with.
And they open it up every night they can't sleep, looking for something, even if they aren't sure what that something is.
And many times they find it. The myserious thing that can come in many forms. In letters, in photos, in pantyhose and torn blouses. Many times they find it. They find it and they wonder.
And that voice inside them tells them: Don't confront. Don't be jealous. Sit and sift. And let it eat you up inside. Wonder.
We settle down because after years of collecting baggage it's heavy enough to throw on top of someone so that they can't wander.