Some of you know I've had eight addresses across three states in the last five years. Right now, after new owners raised my rent (West Philly) by 35% and called it a market discount, I'm between homes again. About a decade ago I was in the Philippines and lost pretty much everything I owned in a storage space in Jersey - photos, books, records, the whole lot -- because I didn't have a job and I was half way around the world and I was too embarrassed about having no money to ask for help. I'm on the road a lot. So I keep departing. I keep saying goodbye. This is a poem about what's left.