Spanish flies,
Spanish wasps and Spanish spiders,
Feathers from Spanish pigeons,
Tiny quartz pebbles from the Spanish beach
Noticed and collected, just for their difference.
I might sleepwalk down to
The young blonde German hiker’s campsite tonight
And risk the German bark of her dog just for
A brief holiday snuggle,
Wake up in her strange tent and let her
Bring me a cup of black German coffee made on
Her efficient German camp stove
Then walk away from her warm German embrace
With a new smile on my face,
And write more poetry in reaction to all this.
Because I can’t bear my own longing
And I can’t stand holding all this love inside me.
The wine is not working this time, but!
How gorgeous to slip inside this space capsule here beside
me
At night and zip up and away from all mankind
How glorious to set intention for control mind
And thought to align
With ever-awakening heart,
Knowing I have in the morning,
If I choose, a view of the Spanish coastline.
So, to let go
This Sadness
For it is not mine.
