Old Dogs


early on
I was consumed
with the idea
of travel

a yearning
for the alien
in location and population
atlases and road maps
were my scriptures
large automobiles
and highway signs
were my

I was old enough
to drive on my own
and even on excursions
of limited scope and purpose
I relished the freedom
to wander and explore
happily transforming
my cartographic images
into tangible realities

still I felt
hoping to roam
farther beyond
the confining borders
of my adolescence

I left home
and began to expand
my meager range
of travel
across state lines
then international boundaries
attempting to visit
every destination
I had fixed upon
in my youth

still I sensed
a lack of fulfillment
something important
still undiscovered
and undone

it all became
the same to me

whether walking
on the frozen expanse
of a lonely Bering Sea
or weaving
through tanned bodies
on a crowded Waikiki
nothing changed
my familiarity
or contempt
for places
or for

my only parchment
of religions stature
is an outdated dictionary
and my holy objects
are the typewriter
and the toilet

I no longer
feel the desire
to wander the world
in search
of some unknown
since it's all
right here
in my head
and in
my hands

why Tulsa?

I'm not sure

it could
have been
I guess

it was
simply here
where I finally
caught up
with myself