Travelers, Part II

We’ve been talking about Texas again.

What is this restlessness twitching our veins?

We plan and we plot these points, connect

dots on a map: a route, a view, a destination;

always moving, all ways looking ahead.


Why we can’t just breathe and appreciate

what is here, the cobbled streets and cafes,

centuries-old relics of vast human past—


Why it won’t simply root my feet to this spot

to know it is one I have wanted to stand in

so long and with such longing—


But our world-view, once expanded, shrinks

to the size of a dot. We crave the round finish,

the chord resolved. When a wooded German road

reminds you of Georgia (though there is another

road and another, beyond and unexplored),


I wonder if it’s time to go home.


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