I think I understand what I was missing
in the summer, when I left you
in that sunset and did the same thing
I had done now times before.
You had your sweater tied around yourself
sitting in the grass under the dogwood tree
the hive made into honey.
There is enough money in our imagination
to give everyone a piece
and there is peace in understanding
what is real.
I take the clock apart
and scatter all the pieces
in the loose sand on a beach
that I have never even been to.
Then I wait in any shade there is
and watch as all the metal detectors
sing over the crashing of the waves.
Get out of your life if you are able to.
Just pack what is essential and break free of it.
Once you’re out there in the wilderness
beyond all points of influence
there is nothing in between you and yourself.
A porcupine quill caught in the bleeding calf
of someone who is too afraid to stop.