return to solitude
where as a child you stared at green grey floor tiles
for so long that they started turning into portals of glass
the edges of the world shimmery and in those void spaces
perhaps you could see wild dogs
roaming the hard shoulders of highways

big snarly things in the city, they're free
i picture they carry all pain and woe
in baskets hanging off ridged backs
it makes me feel better

to return to solitude
carry away and cocoon in this
lonely very beautiful place

full of ice sheets and breeze-blocks and bewildered people and dogs
all traipsing the hard shoulders of highways, together

thinking about those grey green tiles back home
and also about
everyone who turned around
and didn't come back to land