Saturday, February 23, 2013


rasping (against
two ragged edges of fingernail)
my ticket tugs in the wind

i hold it lightly (not firmly, in a fist,
crumpling it with my urge to hold on)
but clamp two fingers around its edge

as a canvas sail bellies outward
(brimming with sea air), the ticket
catches the wind, bringing me with it

the sky, (overfull of clouds),
darkens, a storm approaching
a water droplet wets my sail

i dry it on my sleeve
and refasten my hold
on the ticket

i don't care about the state
of the paper or the ink, as long as
it gets me to

a place
that place

the place
that i

am going

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