You asked me for a poem about home and I remembered br that millions of years ago there was plenty of food for all br in the Garden of Eden and slugs br were well supplied with greenery and all was one big happy family br until slugs found that other species found them tasty br chocolate jellies or unjust desserts especially when after br a good night out they were, well, sluggish about getting home br and the sun came out and gulp quick as a slug of Jack br but spotting one night or was it day, a battered caravan br serai, it occurred that a portable home would be a good thing br to evolute. Became snails. Just took time. br br Poetic point of this is for there is a point, that br human beings are much the same, there's the bricks and mortar thing br we call home but really home is br in the head or heart, we carry it with us, it's the place we go when br there's no other place to go. br br And next time you feel a bit sluggish br about going to work, or like a snail unwillingly to school br you'll have to admit that Evolution br does a goddamned good job, a home in your backpack br beats commuting to work any day. Respect.