No one’s
too young
for history.
Coming or going
we find fruit
or rind, so many
parts of ourselves:
behind is ahead,
each catapult a skin
aimed for signpost
after signpost—
Poor traveler, boxed
in the present. Open it,
says the billboard.
The present, it means.
Even the Lady of Peace
and Good Voyage
was found at least twice
hiding in the breadfruit
tree, having played
truant from the quiet
of her own shrine:
the pilgrims gone,
the highway empty.
In response to Via Negativa: Leave-taking.