It’s been fifteen days, twenty one hours and forty three minutes
since I arrived
and I still feel like I’m driving
here
past turquoise water
slanted conifers chewed up by god knows what
past souvenir shops and fool's gold
amethesyt
viens full of copper.
still moving
still
which scares me just a bit
i’m three stories up now
and looking at the tops of the trees
wondering what's on the ground
and about the colours moving around
and if you are sitting on the bench across the street
from where I've been.
3 comments:
Money.
yes.
yum.
your poems often move me to loneliness.
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