Le Mal du Pays--Homesick
Le Mal du Pays—Homesick
Somewhere near Baltimore, I think,
Or maybe it’s Daytona Beach:
Either way, it’s down the road from
Nostalgia. Across the Bay:
Where the cruise ships pass
Without stopping or even slowing down.
More an inlet than a bay, really:
Docks, man-made peninsulas.
I’ve missed you.
From thirty thousand feet, or twenty,
Six-hundred miles per hour, five-fifty maybe:
Either way, miles from the surface,
Pulling rotations and g’s like facts:
High above where details pass
From faceless figures, soundless.
Deaf to each others’ itineraries:
Boarding passes, all aboard.
I miss you already.
I miss you still.
Taking up so much to have so much,
Sullen in the mud of success:
Either way, caught betwixt joy
And the cloudless sky’s blued limits:
Not quite sad, just full of empty,
Overflowing with whispered secrets,
Pillow talk in loose translation:
Sleepless, lucid dreams.
I’ve missed you.
Neither tropical nor polar belted,
Neither cold nor hot nor comfy:
No Goldilocks, no just-right porridge,
More like Humpty Dumpty:
Careless, yolkless, wall-sitting
As the Earth spins below me,
Looking for king’s men and my shell:
Potted, caulked pieces.
I miss you already.
I miss you still.
Making melancholy in immediate past,
After-tasting astronaut ice cream:
Freeze-dried Neapolitan confection,
Holding water spheres in zero gravity:
Gagging on sweet remembrances,
Concocting quicksands to escape
High below the stillness of dredged canals:
Tided inlets to outlets.
I miss you.
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