Random Journey
Is the inception of a voyage the end of an abstract nothingness
and beginnings of conscious life like driving to town and buy the papers
I remember a song: “set sail at the sunset” can hum the rest but have
forgotten the words I see in front of me with eyes closed
A red sun and calm sea, this is not the crossing of Styx after sundown or
is my immaturity making fun of me again you can't sail to Afghanistan?
I could sail there on a balloon and land when the Taliban shoot hole
in it and we can drink coffee smoke American cigarettes and laugh.
The problem is you can't look at women in in Afghanistan it is a shooting
offence, they do read the Guardian newspaper in Afghanistan too.
So I will sit here and wait not to cross the river but to sail the oceans.