Room by room, bit by bit,
I'll fill it all
Nadine Botha
I moved my room to a bigger one today.
It was just down the passage, so no boxes.
Each object, one by one.
I walked a mile and back.
Found new secret places for my toys.
Thought of throwing them out.
It was boring mostly,
my accumulation of stuff, clutter, crap.
Last week at friends
I asked how they avoided it.
Their lounge consists of a three-seater,
a two-seater, a puff and a red cushion.
They laughed as though they had no idea
what I was talking about.
Maybe the laugh comes complimentary
with the Egyptian winter-white lounge suite.
And I thought of chucking all the stuff.
But I'd have to check first
if it was something worth keeping
and that takes effort.
Maybe that's what stuff is,
a lack of effort?
Effort in concise conviction,
no doubt.
I have racks of doubt
in cheap, distasteful gift form.
Or maybe I just haven't thrown out my toys.
An adult throws out doubt effortlessly.
But every object still seems to hold so much potential,
like undeveloped disposable cameras.
I found mounds of those
in my menagerie.
Yet, no one object seems to hold me back
from procuring more crap.
LitNet: 06 June 2006
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