How would you have known I inherited my nomad heart
from faded photographs of my father at large on some
adventure march with overloaded off the road camel modes
of transportation and that I stayed up for days at the
salt encrusted tiller of tranquility in an empty sea for privacy
away from all the endeavors community demands and oh,
how crisp the stars are in three dimensions of nowhere and
there you are! There you are, I say, wearing the hair you
haven’t brushed in a week with a can of Vienna sausages
to fill up your empty belly before sheer terror overtakes you

Written by Sara Fielder © Sept 2015