Old Dogs


when life
gets hectic
as it often does
I like
to fantasize
about an isolated cabin
on a northwestern coast
where rainy days insulate me
from the asinine activity
of the populated world
and simple meals
of homemade soup
and steaming tea
nourish me
while the waters
of a calm karmic sea
comport me to a point
of certain

these musings
never last for long
reality will creep in
to cruelly remind me
that even in retreat
the mind requires
more stimulation
than isolation
can provide
there are still
twenty-four hours
to be lived in a day
and savoring the solitude
can sanely occupy
only a few
of them

a refuge
of perfection
would be one of thought
needing no foundation
in space and time

society has ways
or arbitrarily dealing
with those lucky enough
to mentally manufacture
their own escapes
placing them
within the white walls
of institutional confinement
which is the only sanctuary
their practical peers
will tolerate
or ever
be able
to understand