His Complexion Seemed Almost Yellow, March 2005

and
nothing that spectacular
came from his mouth
when he was thinking of other things
when he was wishing he were other places

the vistas in his mind could
never be reached
by bush plane
or scenic voyage

it was a long sludge

mostly uphill and
filled with false starts
that were colored like an oasis
one used to see in cartoons
or when taking LSD
many oceans ago

only evaporating much quicker
and without the lucidity
or vision
one usually associates with
such experiences

last place was only a concept to him
not a reality
the idea of humanity being a race
was something he had little desire to
compete in

his
ears fell flat
rather often
onto you
and no man
nor woman
seemed happier

than when walking a sidewalk
in an anonymous town
whistling a tune
he had just made up