Where Do You Go To Escape

Oh wondrous outlaw waving at bandwagons as they pass,

Shackled not by this century’s elusive systems,

Nor blinded by false definitions of success,

Tell me: Where am I to go but venture into the valleys

Of creative souls to pick at the well-edited scraps

Of former gold mines untapped?

I am a modern day Mary Boleyn –

Eager and impressionable.

Oh wondrous outlaw tell me:

Do big books bound by big business

Hold the maps to navigate post-adolescence?

I fear I’ve given myself over to immigrants

Laying me down brick on top of mortar

On top of brick on top of mortar;

My soul weighed down by the foundations of predetermination;

My methods of escape a cliché in comparison

To your erotic evasions.

Oh wondrous outlaw tell me:

Have you smelled the morning breeze off the Bosphorus,

Burned your toes in the sun-drenched sands

That whisper the stories of young men

Who died with love letters in their hands?

Did you find the Secret Garden and spend a year

Just to watch the leaves die then come to life,

Change color then wave goodbye as the biting English winds

Plucked them  off young tree limbs?

Oh wondrous outlaw tell me:

Where do you go to escape?

Will you take me with you

And let me taste more than sweet words?

Feed me what wi-fi cannot: I’ve never heard a gunshot

Nor gazed at a fiery blaze thawing my brain

From a day spent  on the hell-bent Himalayan terrain.

I’ve only read about it pausing mid-sentence

To get off the subway.

I am a modern day Jane Eyre

Knowing you must be out there somewhere.

Oh wondrous outlaw tell me:

Will I ever get service on the L?

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