I could
leave here.
The thought
expands in my chest like a bubble;
it rumbles
in my mind. 4 tires on gravel.
Highway
unspooling behind me;
a filling
station at 2 in the morning,
bad coffee and
white like epiphanies blinding me.
I have a
certain affinity for leaving things behind,
see.
I have left
pieces of myself in churches in Kentucky,
just laying
around for anyone to find.
Bus
stations, train depots:
Indianapolis,
Minneapolis,
Chicago.
Airports in
Atlanta, Philadelphia,
Detroit.
Spare rooms.
Even a S'barro once,
in a plate
of cold spaghetti.
There is not
enough map to contain me.
I am not so
much a woman as a restless creature,
sleeping with
one eye open.
One night
I'll eat the zookeeper,
and break
apart the cage.
--T.A.B. 4-5-13
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