Escape velocity.

How to escape
The gravity
Of things that are tied
To your back
Neatly stored, messily packed
In a sack
Of memories?

How to jettison
The grave errors
And sunken relationships
The battle wounds
Earned and inflicted
The scars and reminders
Of conflict?

First, I’ll get myself
A backpack
The approximate size of my life
Toss everything into it
Cram it with stuff I did and had
Whatever exists outside of me
Of Me.

That rucksack
Brimming with my takes and mistakes
I will set down from my tired shoulders
And walk away quickly
Without a backward glance, however longing
So there are no lingering ghosts
Of regret.

Then, I’ll buy myself
A chrome-plated shiny machine
With two cylinders
And forty-seven horses
That would launch me
Into the deep
Of oblivion.

And only then perhaps
Free of everything
I will finally
Escape.