by Gary Beck

I come closer each day
to the end of my journey
and am still weighed down
with excess baggage,
despite having renounced
caviar, fine wine, Warhols,
but cannot yet give up
books I cherish,
though I still can’t determine
their value in the scheme of things.
ego has diminished,
so if I’m cremated
my books won’t burn with me,
if I’m interred
they won’t moulder with me,
and I’ve almost stopped worrying
about who I’ll leave them to.