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Poem (a nice port in Trieste).

Everything is amenable to a pen--

so nevermind this sudden splash of water

on this page, nevermind it all, it is

something I ought to have been able to make

for myself back home-- if I so desired it,

and finally, I'm glad that I no longer did:

 

You see,

 

travelling is a game for me. It is no

urgency, no need. When I was younger

how many times was I told that: it would be

this way? By teachers and others and televisions

that to leave home

would be the great mattering;

 

Let me remind you of the Acacia trees!

 

Nevermind this sea! And its constant blueness,

their imports of me and those who looked

like me; then their denails of me and

those that look like me when finally

the depature of their self-righteousness

 

A funny thought:

 

In RPGS they're NPCS:

In role-playing games they are

non-playable characters:

 

when you walk your character

to them and give a little click

upon them they might talk and say

something of their

 

 

lives

 

the question is, is what happens

after you switch off the video game

console. Are they always frozen

in their space in that time or is it

that the need for you to journey

keeps everybody so still in your head

that you forget that they too have

 

lives

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Written by
tawandamulalu
Published
Aug 24, 2018
Lines·Words
36·222
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