Thursday, June 11, 2020
Getting Over the Distance Between Us
Sometimes I think it's true that territory
Is only how far we're willing to go
To get to the girl or boy next door.
Geography is really all we have to talk about.
I want you the names of three rivers, I say.
She mentions softly two ranges of mountain.
Over the hugest most western rock, I complain.
She answers with ocean, tides, storms, miles of sand.
I'm reminded of the fault between us.
Of the ups and downs of differently shifting plates.
The tendencies of continents to drift apart.
She is unmoved.
Though again and again I fold my maps, go home
To be among familiar birds and flowers
She knows what latitude and longitude
I'm set on. What long-sought passage.
The trail of abandoned lives and furniture
That follows the heart of discovery.
Another life. Another country.
It always begins at the border.
Arcata / Capetown / Petrolia
Pieces in Place