Weekly feature by: James Diaz

All you have is your mothers tattered suitcase
from before the war
which war?
does it really matter —

you board a bus headed for
where exactly?
is it that important —

just a small town you found on a map that used to belong
to your Uncle Roger
he kept it in a pine box in the back of his garage
you found it after he died
and swore you’d put it to good use some day

now as the bus pulls out of that depressing
greyhound station
on a rainy day
in mid July
you begin to wonder
where you begin and the world ends.

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