And then there’s me…
the reluctant God
of All Distance, placing
a foot on paths seen
only In lucid dreams
and on Google Earth.
Breathless and drifting
I vault from Quickbird
and into half known territory,
crashing through a whisper
of geranium and ozone
as weak cirrocumulus bullies
clasp with insubstantial fingers,
around the red pin of me.
They try to prevent my landing
– with studied lethargy – in a town
I know better than my home.
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