The suitcase feels fuller than when you'd left. Coming back,
you are indelicate with your things, stuff your dirty socks
irreverently next to the dress you didn't wear. You pack
like a madwoman, speeding through and thinking the shock
of the return will be less potent if you don’t stop to gaze
at your bright and flowery swimsuits or the shorts you wore
on your way to the hotel beach. And indeed, the days
fall like dominoes the minute you walk in your front door.
A week goes by. You wonder if the trip was only in your head.
But then, like sticky magic, you wake to sand inside your bed.