> The Rose of Kilimanjaro

The Rose of Kilimanjaro

Par |2019-01-20T04:01:26+00:00 18 novembre 2012|Catégories : Blog|

Seasons change ;         so nature
sets your nature free. 

You toss your gear in the back of the ute
and head north.

Longed-for water,
west­bound sun, a barge, the fer­ry ; 
lack­less being.

Some day it will be sun spots and cre­péy hands,
and you won’t be bla­med for reques­ting Christmas lists, once get­ting around town becomes
a chore.

You might even thank the calen­dar
for nud­ging us into new acts, chan­ging stages.

Right now, though, there’s no more clo­cking on,
no more pledges, claims
to clew.

The time has come — you named the right—
for doing things you want to do.

It’s only a week out here in the moun­tains ;
waking up warm in your dewy tent,
pul­ling on your grey marl  uni­ver­si­ty shirt,
fixing cof­fee on the lit­tle gas bur­ner.

And then,
       dri­ving south this time — the hair on your legs as femi­nine as any boob job or bur­qa.  Blank sex of glo­wing peaks, whit­tled rain.

chan­ging a blown-out tyre on the side of the road,
before the high­way packs you in.