“I’m Taking a year off to head Downsouth,
to be by the ocean and collect my thoughts.”
“That is so lovely, I wish I could do the same thing. You really deserve it.”
“I just want to step away from the circle
to kind of, deconstruct myself, you know.
Because lately, I’ve felt like most of myself
“I know, I know- my sister’s friend did a similar thing up in the mountains
and she came back radiant.
Now she makes jewellery and its
going really well. I’m happy for you,
this is so exciting.”
“Yes, it is.”
After three months of drinking the sweet South,
where at nine in the evening
your options are to sleep
or water the white anthuriums,
a rosé in hand
half-listening to a voice documentary
about Syria (to keep informed)
and the racket of crickets (to keep going on).
In either case, there is only one option for the view: the grand night of ocean sounds, serious stars and coconut palms.
This full-circle view for the last ninety two nights is now cut into the back of my eyes;
and in my long sleeps there was only one dream that I had-
long palms and white stars that swum drunk in a pink sea mass.
If at nine o’clock in the evening,
while you are watering white anthuriums
in the seaside South
with a rosé in hand,
you find yourself wondering
clearly, happiness is a semblance.