Go.

 

10177919_10209197844807266_8307547364755939424_nI try to imagine myself without

The desire to travel

I would see the same place

Everyday but

Never grow tired

 

My skin would lay still

As if finally finding rest

Never intending to awaken again

 

My stomach remaining silent

Except when I’m cooking

In an organized kitchen

Where everything is

Placed where it was meant to be

 

I don’t have to think while

I cook because

Nothing ever changes and

All the instructions are

In my native language

 

A pleasant hum

Spreads through my body

As if sharing the news that once again I will

Be eating casserole.

 

A thin sweater and

A painted apron

Fall into their comfortable ruts

 

A shrill whistle

Echoes through the small kitchen

Informing me

The hot tea is done

 

I pour the boiling liquid

Into my favorite mug

And don’t even imagine

The possibility

That there are different flavors

Than this one

 

The only thought that

Taps on the inside of

My skull is

That I need to go

Back to the grocery store

 

I need to go

Pay my bills

I need to go

Start a family

But no

I need to go

And see the world

 

My skin wakes up and once again

Starts screaming

Saying

I need to go.

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