The other day I sat in front of the laptop 

And I just sat, I was stopped

Amazon was on the screen

At my fingertips was everything

But my fingers didn’t move the cursor toward the search bar 

I thought about how we already have everything yet we’re falling apart 

What does it mean that I’m already looking forward to the post-Christmas purge?

Ahh, to get rid of the excess, to chop my hair, to clean the house, to see trees that are bare

And maybe I’ll write a poem that sounds like a dirge 

I wish more people realized that in the end, our possessions and our mortality will merge 

I see it all the time – in my neighborhood, an old person dies

Whoever it is whose left behind rents a dumpster 

Goes into that house and chucks everything 

There’s no compromise 

The truth is: there is no bunker 

I don’t mean to sound so bitter 

But it’s something to remember 

When searching, when clicking, when buying and getting

What about just sitting outside and hearing the leaves rustle?

Ah, to not be caught up in the hustle

What if streets were for running, rather than UPS and Amazon and Wal-Mart trucks

Maybe then we could get unstuck – from our misery, from our debt, from the lie that trough stuff our needs could be met

I went outside and sat

Thought about that

It’s nice to just be okay

To face Amazon 

And to walk away