packing my bag for the beach
all my clothes slung into the big suit case
with Mom's and Dad's and Ethan's
nothing left to do
but to pack my leisure luxury items.

In my threadbare Ramones bag
with the *** Pistols and Gogol Bordello pins
the Arvo Part patches
(he is a lovely composer)
I pack all of my real essentials:
Three writing journals
one sketch book
a comic I'm writing
the Grapes of Wrath
some Japanese homework
and pens.

I can't just have them ***** nilly
so I open up the secret pouch
the one for wonderful secret things
like the MP3 players I used to hide from my mom
because she'd break them when she was mad at me
it was so black,
no one ever knew what was in there
but me.

I pushed my fingers in
and I pulled back something red
slit on my fingers
from a razor blade I had hidden
so, so long ago.

It is heavy in my hand.
Funny, I haven't used one for a year
and the glinting silver teases me
even on the verge of joy.

I will hide it
for another day
that I hope isn't going to come.