Enough Ithakas

don't ever want to sit
don't want to stare at the wall
under the words of some interesting little pet from the local college
don't want to move spit
just want to move calloused feet and bruised toes
to the west and wester 'til I’m all in a fret on a boat.
want to follow the ho chi minh trail
until I hit the bricks of town walks with gray and indigo colored people
I want to leave those and these nice weather people
Leave the nice words, nice clothes, nice person people
with a wink, a skip, and nothing of my essence.
I'll horde it all and they won't see my serious funny stupid puking eyes.
the beautiful women and the chuckling old men
the carrot eating bohemians, the African widowers
the world townies searching will search, or not,
But I want to walk into the oblivion of the lines on the road,
or at least into the center of the earth.

The gravel with give "it" up
I know it
I read it in a book,
or maybe just in between the cracks and crackling of a lunge forth as a kid
I want to walk until it's enough to walk
One day it'll be enough to just walk.

World townies will all go home
and eat dinner
and happy
they happy, and it's all they can do.

the mouths of the lines on the road are flat,
and they makes me a porcelain plate,
we're the same
and the crunching of the ground won't ever stop
until it's flattened
and the world is flat or round or neither
but regardless we're slipping into each other
discovering our edges and fondling our skins
and "it" hurts me and pulls me and throws me
like world townies do on Christmas eve at downtown bars and potlucks
like wild cat-woman dressed lovers do in yellow smoke back alleys
like crimson knights do to Boston groupies.
Pull skin back, grab flesh deeper, burn into and through.
the crunch of its flat mouth is all I need
I want to walk until it's not enough to run,
One day it'll be enough to walk.