Travelog
From the tired hotel on 2nd and Broad
where Johnny Cash stayed, the sign says,
and the Beatles and the termites,
she stares out at a scraped sky
remembers the conversation that led
to her own Southernmost Point
where everything stood behind her
Remembers how he pulled her aside
there’s a whole world out there,
he said and what are you, chicken?
Remembers his confidence and
how she followed, entranced, as he
slithered away, back before she realized
he didn’t even have hands
She wondered what the big
apple would taste like – oh it was soft
at the core, some new kind of rotten
and the worm in the middle
still squirmed on the floor
where she spit it out, laughing
and writhing at her feet
She lifted her suitcase
with the strength of a woman who
found what she’s looking for elsewhere
Elsewhere.
She never had to leave home for this.
Everywhere you go, you have to make
your own sparkle –
Any city is sin city if you do it right.
