Don’t ask me out. Don’t ask to be my friend.
I’m way too much baggage -
Big, heavy trunks full of heartbreak and loss
and near-loss, and lack of closure.
Suitcases full of mistrust and misanthropy,
self-loathing and suspicion.
I’m damaged goods.
Yes, I finally arrived at the terminal
But there was a gash in my side
and everything was broken and hanging out -
bottles of perfume and sacks of imported coffee
all smeared on those bazaar garments.
Don’t try to get close to me.