the funny thing about life is that the more things change, the more things really do stay the same.
whoever said that was smart.
there are constants like the things we carry.
the bunched up sweater in the bottom of our suitcase.
the one with the new-this-winter moth hole.
the one you will not throw away because it is the perfect shade of orange.
the one that you will self-consciously wear because of the hole that's small enough to ignore
but large enough to be gaping.
like the cut on your leg last month when that wine glass somehow shattered inside your hand.
and the place in the wall with the dent
that needed patching in the morning.
there's a pile of luggage in the entryway.
and the zippers are breaking
spilling things that were hidden
into the space