What I Left Behind
“I used to be somebody else, but I traded myself in”
—Antonioni’s The Passenger
I left so many things behind
I had another world to explore
another lifetime to begin
I left a huge apartment in San Francisco's North Beach
gave away the multicolor jackets from Kathmandu
the Tibetan dragon rug
the painting of the cycle of existence
I gave away the Hindu statuettes
Shiva in a circle of fire dancing through destruction and rebirth
Krishna the romantic playing his flute as a cowherd
Saraswati the goddess of education and the arts
I carry them all inside me now
I gave away a lifetime’s worth of books and records
I had memorized all the songs
and all the poems worth remembering
I gave away my bed my futon
where I slept and made love
the table where I ate the fish and rice
I cooked in the kitchen
the clothing that I wore through the fog in winter
everything that kept my body alive
I gave away my Thai furniture
the case with the elephant paintings
the letter holders and wall hangings —
I would find them again in Bangkok
I left so many people behind
the Sufis spinning at the Mentor Garden
the monks bowing to each other at the Zen temple
the poets at the open mic nights
at the Sacred Grounds Café
and on the bookshelves in City Lights
All the old friends I would never see again
all the ex-lovers who still hold a place in my heart
and in my arms
I left my family
never to see my brother or sister again
their graying curly hair
their shouts and their frowns of disapproval
left my orthodox religion
the stained glass windows of
the domed temple in Brooklyn
left behind what I was taught in public school
about patriotism and money —
And about America
I left so much of myself behind—
What parts got washed away by the Pacific Ocean?
Now I live in a tiny apartment in Bangkok
with a beautiful woman with dark straight hair
and dark almond eyes
we eat fish and rice
that we cook in our kitchen
walk through the night market
go to glittering temples
take off our shoes and bow
All we have now is a statue of the Buddha
a painting of the rivers and mountains of Guilin
a candle holder from Jerusalem
a tapestry of Sufis turning
a Japanese picture of Bodhidharma—
All we have now is all I need
I write poems and stories
all around the world
and live
unbounded
I remember thinking years ago
that I would be ready to die at any time
if it was my time to go
now I would not want to leave this life—
this love
There are still more worlds to explore
More new lifetimes to begin