Purging

Makes me think of bulemic girls and library inventories. But also of splinters in my heart and unworn clothes in my closet. As i am leaving this apartment and this Los Angeles I am leaving behind the Pacific Ocean. It will not fit in my pocket. I am also leaving a trail of history: ethernet cords and routers, the black tank top that never fit, blankets that I never knew where they came from. A jar of Guava jelly, half used. The dvd player, curtains and curtain rods. Measuring tape for Malika, chair and couch for Janice. Recyclables sorted into the studious carts of homeless men addicted to glass bottles and the things that come within. Trash for the dumpster, the mountain not lived on in the country except by the rats and birds. Divide my life into seven my new assignment and I will leave that paper behind perhaps by match and flame. Some day I will be purged my bones and muscles left behind as new wonder and garden grows, to the heavens and brightness my soul will go and all the nitty gritty details, the sweeping, the empty pens, the unread books, the html i never learned the stools i searched so long and hard for will be fragments of life, shreds of eternity available and probably forgotten like a tattoo is not permanent in reality eternal. Tomorrow is streetcleaning.