If ounces equal pounds

And pounds equal pain

Then I have been a bit haphazard

And inefficient

About what I have carried

On this hike.


A pack should be laid out neatly

And cleanly,

Uniform to the capital T.

Ideally, it’s aesthetically,


Slender and Svelte.



I couldn’t suffer myself

To discard of a single sock.

To make things worse

I kept accepting

100% cotton sweatshirts.


I ran out of space

And began making allowances

By attaching my pans

To the outer straps

And they began clanging together

When I walked anywhere.


It wasn’t long

Until my fellows noticed

Just how disheveled I was.

To their credit

They were too polite

To say anything.


One evening,

Having not a single spot or strap left

I tried to double my weight.

Exhausted and defeated,

I howled

And in a rage

I shook that fucking bag,

Shook that fucking bag empty.


I woke up by a blessing

And – with some direction – started carrying

Only what I needed.


It’s been quite a bit better

Walking around here.