The rainy days in this town,
the trembling wind, and how
I live so close to the river,
which turns grey as the water
rises with millions of bubbles ,
remind me
of home.

Home is only a restless sleep away.

Over that vast ocean, on the dark sky,
I seemed to be the only one awake,
so wide awake in my thoughts,
knowing I could, or perhaps not,
find myself again.
Maybe you, too,
have lost yourself in between
two pins on a map.

But I am not on that plane.
I am sitting
at the high coffee table,
hearing the wind howl
around the trees, as my window
is left open.

And I wish I were light enough
to be carried away
not to home
but somewhere, somewhere else,
I do not know,
maybe some ocean sea
maybe some tall mountain
or wherever without the humans
and there, leave me in the heightened cold.

Though I would rather
for that mighty wind
to be strong enough, so my departure
would not take too long.
I hate things that linger;
they never do me any good
Things, like memories,
pain,
longing,
goodbye's.
Thus I whisper,
"I'll go now, and please,
make it quick."

But my wind,
so distracted by the rain,
keeps passing without hearing me.

I'm telling you,
it is not so easy, after all,
to be granted such a simple wish
on a rainy day.