Customs Stop Before That Faraway Place - Poem by Erik Wilson
If I could cross over to your mind-
Tell me what I would find?
Endless fastidious fields of books?
Would I meet T.S. Eliot and Romantic Dickens reading and sighing under the big oak trees?
Are there even oak trees?
I am questioning every village in the area when I get there-
to see the fireplaces they use to light their hovels.
Would there be music-
Pan flutes, trombones and Billy Joel?
Tell me what to anticipate-
Let me open your mind- to SEE what I would find.
Would I find good looks-
a warm cat on my lap?
Venetian pools of kinetic kindness?
Would I find timeless merriment and wild peals of drunken debauchery?
Would there be knights in angst?
Rosebushes of heavy love?
I am opening the mahogany door-
of your ability.
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