I began this journey                                                  life,
Not utterly naked or                                                 bare,
For every night I gather what is                              necessary
From leftover strands of someone else's                life -
I weave them into                                                      a tapestry,
So that when I awake, I sense                                  the richness
Of the Universe where everything                          continues
Broken down, then taken up                                    again.

When cold hits the desert,
I'll go to Kwajalein.
I'll go to Kwaj.
I'll go in a Micronesian jet,
and I'll ride a rusted bike.
I'll go to Kwaj,
and the bougainvillea will sing.
Oh the blue eyed lagoon
     at Emmon beach.
I'll go to Kwaj.
And the palm trees will bow to the wind.
Barbecue air.
Plumaria and Parties.
Turtles in the pit
     and milk truck shuttles.
I'll go to Kwaj
     like I always said I would.
Crescent island and
     windside waves.
Bicycle rush hour.
Coral sand and coral reefs.
I'll go to Kwaj.

You leave behind unknown tears.
A hole in your room.
A space at the table.
A green apple in the fridge,
And a thought in the freezer still thinking of you.
Eight pairs of forgotten socks in the laundry.
You leave one friend at the movies,
     another at the gas station,
     and a third buying tacos and ice cream.
And you think you'll go back.
And you'll try all your life to go back.
But you'll never quite get there.