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.