31 Years Away

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31 Years Away

At this shore the pelicans know 

better than to bat against the billow, 


still as dune-settle, less despair

than consent to be carried there


at odd angles like tired toddlers

or toppled stack of bald tires


scudding over the sea's black

ice. Is not our intractable way 


with words, this endless appetite

for a night's entertainment or the road-


side map enough to make clear

we’re not from around here?   


Just look at how unmoored in a head-

wind, how hard we insist to flap


to ensure we're going nowhere

further than the nowhere we set out for.


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