My Cat Purrs

MY CAT PURRS  

At home, I was thinking about what it would be like to travel without a suitcase.
When I reached my destination, I would lie still,
let the water from the hotel faucet run between my fingers,
washing off the stains of the journey.
I would still carry in my wallet, like forgotten coins,
my cat's footsteps on a spiral staircase,
unfinished chores, buried secrets,
clothes that no longer fit,
a dying plant,
many conversations pressed between lips like lettuce in sandwiches.
My luggage is heavy, like a hangover from cheap wine.