Satchel

I have a satchel to carry my dreams,
amassing sketchbook, novel, pen and pencil
ready for the parade of thoughts to tumble out
On a barstool, flush with pint of amber strength
and the dull crush of talking drinkers.

Parcels of inspiration left and right
Whispering women and children here
Bringing back my indecision

I want to return to comfort TV and linger.

I have a satchel to carry my dreams,
manically afraid to leave them in solitude
Trailing after each person I’ve penned
And wishing they would fit inside my satchel

Lipsticks and lovers, blinking and travel
Breaking of dishes, slapping of shoes
Making a waste of marriage.

I want to return to comfort sleeping and linger.

I have a satchel to carry
my dreams lie shattered on the floor
where I dropped them when I realized

they didn’t belong to me.

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