already gone

four hundred miles
to drive tomorrow
whispering poetry
i cannot transcribe
to the hawks
circling high above

a hermit
carefully wrapped
in the vestiges of
hurtling across
texas at a
hundred miles per hour
racing to get back
to the nothing
that always
awaits him at home

dreading both
the leaving
and the return
with sorrows
i am here yet
i am already gone

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s