It went well,nYou didn't have to do it all by yourself.nSome friends came over and helped,na hand truck, a friend with a van,nand you're moving out again.nRemembering when you first came,nit's crazy these streets look the same,nthey looked different when they were strange.nAnd it's always weird to erasenevery personal tracenfrom a place you called home for a whilenand see all that you own in a pile.nA place that had become a friend,nto return it to how it had been,nto be friends with whomever moves in.nnAnd you stick aroundnafter all the boxes are downnthe fridge is empty- just one ice tray, nand you swept and mopped more todaynthan the entire time that you stayed.nIt's a shame you now have to leave,nthe place is actually nice when it's clean.nIt wasn't hard mopping the floor,nwhy didn't you ever do that before?nNow the van is down on the corner,nand you've done everything that you're gonna.nThere's some pennies and dust on that shelf,nbut the landlord can clean it herself,nand you're not sure, but you're going to claimnthe blinds were busted like that when you came.nnMan, so existential in that room,nso existential with that broom.nCause the room looks the samenexcept there's no life left,nand you start thinking about death.nWhen you die, will it be the same?nNo more thoughts decorating your brain?nAn empty space for the world to reclaim?nYou're on the verge of thinking something deep,nthen you hear the van give the beep,nthen you take one last look around to make sure,nthen you take one last walk out the door,nand you'll never again see the anglenof the street you saw from that window.nYou take the key out of your pocket,nyou close the front door and you lock it,ndrop the key back through the slot,nsure hope there's nothing you forgot.