yes because you’re the type of person who knows you’re hungry but is never sure of what you want to eat
Just got around to listening to this (four times) - what a trip - love the couplets nestled in the midst of the word whirlwind - so good!!
After Winnie/after Kelly
so here I go sliding into your DMs
to tell you that you’re not an introvert
anymore.
I hope this finds you.
sitting on the hardwood floor
of the paul-lincke-ufer altbau
not knowing how to pack a suitcase.
(it’s midnight and you are sitting between all
these clothes, crying. and then your lover packs it for you,
carefully rolling the socks
stuffing them into your shoes).
you now travel 7816.1 kilometres
only with a carry on.
sometimes a board bag.
you are an overzealous surfer.
you own a rob machado sunday midlength
you wrap it carefully in a yoga mat, and in honeycombs of folded paper.
you are so efficient, you pack
your mother’s suitcase, her backpack.
you carry both.
you know the shortcuts at airports.
IST. IAD. DOH. GVA. ORY.
you have a travel prayer you say it
when you hear the barking dog
hydraulic pump of the plane’s
power transfer unit
when the plane takes off.
sometimes after you’ve paid for in-flight wifi.
and when you arrive and
step on a rectangular terrace
a little girl is playing on its floor
the sun breaking on the crest of her hair and cascading down her
tiny shoulders and between plants and water and on smooth surfaces.
thick smells of yellow. sweet and tangy and clean.
light sticks to your clothes like anti-dust.
and this isn’t your house.
it is the house of someone you are trying
not to fall for. but it’s too late.
right there. in someone else’s life.
all of the versions of you are marigold seedlings.
for a little while and until you write them
into one of your poems.
and travel to you is now just
like a harry potter doubling charm
everything multiplies by touch.
Just got around to listening to this (four times) - what a trip - love the couplets nestled in the midst of the word whirlwind - so good!!
After Winnie/after Kelly
so here I go sliding into your DMs
to tell you that you’re not an introvert
anymore.
I hope this finds you.
sitting on the hardwood floor
of the paul-lincke-ufer altbau
not knowing how to pack a suitcase.
(it’s midnight and you are sitting between all
these clothes, crying. and then your lover packs it for you,
carefully rolling the socks
stuffing them into your shoes).
you now travel 7816.1 kilometres
only with a carry on.
sometimes a board bag.
you are an overzealous surfer.
you own a rob machado sunday midlength
you wrap it carefully in a yoga mat, and in honeycombs of folded paper.
you are so efficient, you pack
your mother’s suitcase, her backpack.
you carry both.
you know the shortcuts at airports.
IST. IAD. DOH. GVA. ORY.
you have a travel prayer you say it
when you hear the barking dog
hydraulic pump of the plane’s
power transfer unit
when the plane takes off.
sometimes after you’ve paid for in-flight wifi.
and when you arrive and
step on a rectangular terrace
a little girl is playing on its floor
the sun breaking on the crest of her hair and cascading down her
tiny shoulders and between plants and water and on smooth surfaces.
thick smells of yellow. sweet and tangy and clean.
light sticks to your clothes like anti-dust.
and this isn’t your house.
it is the house of someone you are trying
not to fall for. but it’s too late.
right there. in someone else’s life.
all of the versions of you are marigold seedlings.
for a little while and until you write them
into one of your poems.
and travel to you is now just
like a harry potter doubling charm
everything multiplies by touch.