POETRY

Traveler

Prompted by a prose poem and the season

medium format film mirror self portrait (by author of course)

This skin of mine houses
a perpetual traveler
in suspension between
one place and another
where the past and the
future shake hands, I’m
standing awkwardly
in the way
like a person in line
sandwiched with old
friends on either side
but it’s fine nobody
wants to cut, each is
content with their place
and meanwhile they
are both speaking different
languages, both indecipherable
to me, sharing knowing laughs
and side-eyeing my profile
while I pretend
not to listen

Time’s terminal is always
holiday travel busy
but like CS Lewis’ bus
everybody seems to know
where they are going
but me
well, at least I can look
above heads and shoulders
out the window, beyond,
where the next thing waits
at least I can enjoy
the view