East Harlem to the Grand Tetons

No words, oily body sweats, city summer.

Desperate to get out and never return although

stalled on Triborough Bridge I admired the skyline.

My city, my death, I did it my way.

Counting your blessings a healthy activity, 

the park out my back window, a job that pays.

But I am losing strength to fight

for the world in my imagination. Acceptance of reality

makes me a fossil of society.

Basho in old age found strength to walk

deep into the mountains. He visited famous sites

up north. Po Chu-i traveled mountains in his dreams.

You can leave at any time. You can return

without being seen. A way to learn

your insignificance, freedom to have never been.