moving to Oakland

This tsunami of small details like a set of flickering eyes, there will be new keys soon and Bart a familiar persona, German learned and mad bike racing and your bed a refuge. There will be lists scribbled and an ordering of priorities, guidelines to success a mumbo jumbo rumbling down my spine, an urgent voodoo. It's spewing from all orifices of my body, this sense of forward marching. The time is now, this is it, I have to get going. Drawers and closets and kitty doors and cupboards gawping open while other gates clap shut like fancy shoe hooves or sonic booms, I can never return home again. I'm not sure which train to board, the coaches all look so damn charming, they're moving and I've got to scuttle onboard fast before these seeds are grandmother redwood trees, before I'm too fat or complacent to get to any kind of scuttling. I'm at a fork in the road and I'm taking it.