Us three here, them two piled bodies asleep, slumped,
Sahara windowed, we a meditation mix, mess a imagination,
amalgamation, them whizzing through books and buying
tea kettle and we debating abstractions of perception, we
dragging memories of streets of Marrakesh onto blue airplane
carpet, aisled and middled and windowed, fatigued with senses
overexploited, olive smelled, sponge cake brained, marmalade
and coffee bellied, haggle eared passengers of the USA,
swinging, swanking, swindling our way through Souks of spirit,
trying to cut a deal, burn a joint, vouch for country, fix ourselves saintly,
wash our eyes and return to Madrid, a little piece of Africa pocketed,
modified and demystified, for future reference in social situations,
around the fire, perhaps, shores of great lakes abound,
tongues a whirling, us all and them and everyone stork nested,
palace walled, preserved and deteriorating forever.
i like how you have captured the taking away of memories after traveling, dragging them away and pocketing them. ... that somehow the real dynamic experience turns into our memories that become these inert things in our been-that done-that library.
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