I chewed a lot of scenery here
and every time I travel I come back
to wherever my headquarters are
with different, altered morals.
There is either more
or less garbageattached to me
and I can take the time to draw
it for you like MC Escher.
She is now a burrowed muse
like the book exclaims
but I am still here on Earth
exploring the heart, playing hide-and-seek.
We are parallel playing
in poems and airplanes
practicing distance and distraction
but I am still worried you will forget me.
There is something instrumental
in being bored with theories
and call me hungry
but I hope she is happy in that word, that world.
Rainy but drunk
my house is alone
among houses that alone
none of which are homes.