Khenpo Rimpoche gave me full meditation instructions on emptiness.
I added a used BA ticket (Manchester -Tenerife)
Kotex, muchas pesetas, ein Deutsch Mark.
Not wishing to be presumptuous, not trusting you either, a pack of 18.
I have a calligraphic pen. A brush for Chinese brush painting. There is space
for my guardian angel—had she been a lychee that is.
Passport. A plethora of keys.
A rescue remedy (in case of atmospheric turbulence).
Anguish, at what will land/will not land
when once it took off/didn’t take off. Ambiguity.
Arnica, Gelsemium et al. A credit card.
His face the last time he had a shower, my impatience, my restless youth. Rizlas.
Those twin shrines: my bodhisattva eyes. Baccy.
And finally, the matches I forgot in las Canarias Islas!
Manchester, Monday, 6 January 1997
[A parody on the poem by Maura Dooley ‘What every woman should carry’]