Fugue State
Oct 27 2009


A change of scenery
they concurred.
A warm dry climate.
Salt-water pools
that hold you up
like form-fitting mats
of body temperature fluid.
A sudden move,
to exotic tastes
foreign tongues
sultry women,
who flash their eyes at you.

I seek the geographical cure
for this gnawing ennui
these frayed attachments.
From the familiar landmarks
that remind me of flawed starts
false hope
things that end badly,
or not at all.

I travel in a bubble of glass,
the illusion of stillness
as the world moves past.
I travel in any direction
a fugitive, defecting,
not speaking out loud
for days.

I make distance,
but only the scenery has changed.
Far enough
on a spherical planet
and you find yourself home, again.