Lose something                                                                                                      every day.
Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The

    a
      r
        t

of     l   o   s   i   n   g     isn’t
                                                          h
                                                              a
                                                                 r
                                                                    d
to master.

Then practice

losing farther,

losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel.

None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch.
And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The

    a
      r
        t

of     l   o   s   i   n   g     isn’t
                                                          h
                                                              a
                                                                 r
                                                                    d
to master.