Pen in Motion

A place for everything,
and everything has
some kind of place – in my head,
on my hard drive,
on any of my shelves.
Big box,
little box –
all shapes and sizes.
Folders in folders
in folders.
And on and on,
without any end in sight.
It’s how I roll,
how my brain stays happy
most of the time.
Who has time to actually process anything when you’re
too busy revamping your filing system.
Something is broken though – somewhere in the system
that just keeps
shoving things in boxes
and folders
with no labels
so I don’t have to remember,
until I forget
what’s inside and open it –
should have labeled it “Pandora,”
but that would get confusing
after a while,
when all the boxes have
the same label. 
I’m not ready to deal with it yet –
I guess I’d rather risk
the anxiety that grabs me
out of nowhere
than mess up the system.
Maybe I’ll label some of the boxes “Schrodinger” –
won’t know if the memory survived
if I never crack the lid.
But how can it be dead
and gone if the clink of ceramic
on my kitchen counter
still makes me scared of the fallout?