Friday, October 03, 2008

Traveling Light

Feeling nostalgic
is for the birds;
there is no such thing
as salvation.
I was popping up in places
forgive yourself
be kind to others
Magic Marker in hand
big letters making matters
worse on subway posters
under my ink.
Defacing a glass
bottomed boat. I was
bumping up against you?
It's the fleeting hope provided by
medicinal powders,
silver elixirs, a map
with bumps--or is that gum?
If a human body changes places
then we call that traveling--
that's why I'm moving
toward you. I know what you love.
I'm watching you read this.


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