The Great Hoarder

Sometimes when my wife and daughter are asleep

I feel like I am forever filling up an attic

with boxes of knick-knacks I'm not prepared to throw out

but have no clue what to do with.

I think of errands to run: I have to go to the bank,

diaper supplies are dangerously low,

we are out of milk and orange juice...

Other thoughts drift by like odd deep sea fish:

Will I be able to read all the books that are piling up?

My hair is getting too long. Does anyone read my poems?

I wander this dark attic when I cannot sleep,

thinking of friends I've lost touch with

and speak to ghosts in need of company.

They want to know what it's like to be young

and laugh at my talk of being mired with responsibility.

Well, you haven't changed diapers

while trying to write a status update, I say.

You're lucky, I tell them, you don't have to choose

between Apple and Android, Taylor Swift or Miley Cyrus.

Go back to sleep, Greg, they say.

Those are questions for the ages.

Greg Santos

Paris, France

November 16, 2010