travel

I was awoken by a buzz,
a mobile phone, a
splinter cell malevolence

I was a single thread,
poised,
a silence before
Higgs decisions

I was a mid-afternoon
between shifts,
a southerly wind
perched like a cold heart,
ambushing
an Australian November

I returned
from the mother country,
broke the clay on my face,
wondered
if all my chances
missed their fly-by
past the new moon

I felt I may have been
cast
by Rodin’s lover,
my head in my hands,
having spent one day as a lion,
or as Atget’s gatekeeper,
not yet unsettled
by Haussmann dreams,

by being dragged
by the gills
against the tide,
or a raging
change,
a splitting ear of
bells and whistles.

but still I trailed back,
different as every time,
an uncoiling spring
scattering crumbs
up the arms
of the GMT,

my mind a steamy soup,
a foggy sensation,
an over-cooked idea,
a thirteenth Apollo
sprouting from the ground.



I was awoken by a buzz,
a reverie strangled
in its sleep,
and ever since then
my dreams
tease
their dancing partners,

sending mixed signals
to radio towers

but they always return
home
when the black coffee
of that sunless space
calls
for last drinks

--
http://migueljacq.com/2013/11/21/travel/