from poetry.com
waking to a gecko on the ceiling
breathing freely in camoflaged living,
i realize i have slept beside him
in so many small, musty rooms -
a million breaths in sync. . .
in love with my displacement,
i am absent to the world,
imitating the dreams of monks,
bowing in the shadows of buddha
and meditating into existance
thousands of yellow butterflies. . .
when i am too close to home,
i crave the scattered smells
and lost colors of mysterious cultures,
and myself moving in rhythm with them -
i am dispersed forever
in tropical winds away from home,
swaying with coconut palms and dancing gods,
spilled, like incense, across pineapple fields
and across oceans like loose sand.
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