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moving to
san diego or maybe
amsterdam, the dominican
republic or peru, watching the sand blow
up women's hair in windstorms
and drinking coladas and
snorting cocaine. singing on
a static microphone drunk on absinthe meeting
dark skinned men who invite me to
taste the fruits of the
island

on vacation in the queen's back alleys
pointing a gun at a window, waiting for
the light to change
exchanging money for information or
winning a million on poker or the slots
and betting it all all over again
never meeting the same woman twice
and always
always
ravishing them all.

all these things are getting so boring
and some of you can see that, and maybe
waiting for this all to change, so
you can have gotten in
on the ground
floor.

but these things that stay so long
the same, they don't change, dear
reader. they don't change.

cut yourself free of
similar expectations. disband from
society and raise camel for two
years in the sudan.
balance on one foot
on the mast of an open air ship in
italy and hold a wine glass to the sky,
aiming the sun through it so your
face glitters purple. jump
from snow spot to snow spot on
floating moving glaciers and
set up camp, hunt for food, swim in the
artic frozen waters.

move.

chase the tail to honolulu and from
there to katmandu, climb the mountains
blind folded, sing songs to nepal as
the evening comes along.

wait for no man and want no woman, drink
water from the dead sea and whisper
into the ears of those floating.
splash around, then run naked into
russia and jump into japan.

remove yourself from precedent and
die having never been known.

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