And this is travelling:
waking up, dry mouthed and bleary eyed,
next to someone you remember knowing the night before

my sandwich, packed in a hasty day ago
makes a messy meal, a meagre breakfast
broken bits of cheddar
bruised bread
and four bright red tomatoes
that are too cheerful for the cold Dutch morning

she is sleeping now
wrapped up like an icy butterfly
in two jackets and her brittle winter dreams

and watching her I realize
that she has been no more than a momentary muse to me
her beauty is still real
but it will wither and fade because she won't believe it

it is sad, that
that she does not believe in her beauty
I built a myth for her to buy
but she would not have that either

I have tried to tell her
with my eyes, my lips, my hands, my pen
but her eyes and her ears are closed
even her heart will not hear my song

so I must leave as I found her
shy, quiet, beautiful and sad;
a princess dreaming of a farmer

AcB 02.24.01