The Tourist

 

Sinking in.

Dropped ten thousand meters.

At some point,

there is no difference

between that and flying.

Trying to ignore

the annoying sounds

that desecrate my silence.

Deaf to anything,

but the rush of blood in my years

for so long.

Then a voice

pieces through the darkness.

“Excuse me, Sir.

You have reached your destination.”

I look around.

Where am I, now?

 

 

HG – 2020

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