Itinerant
Jan 19 2009


Some people travel to find themselves;
others, to get lost.
Alone, on a train
talking to yourself.
A table for one.
A narrow single bed.

So you learn to live in your head,
surrounded by strangers
the babble of foreign tongues.
You learn to like
the person you’ve now become.
Or, like a room-mate you’ve been stuck with
learn to get along,
overlook the mess,
and tolerate
all the thoughtless mistakes
and missteps.

You leave no forwarding address,
losing yourself
in some teeming hot metropolis,
living rough.
Finding out
if you’ve finally learned how to love
yourself.
Or better yet
some other.