Leaving the Big City
So afterward I sat by the bosphorus blue water and many dazzling
shapes smoothed the atmosphere; somehow the mind grew still as
a shadow passed through and the shore was occluded by small boats and overhanging
roofs.
Out of nothing–sounds of the daily world broke through and came
as an affront to what was lost. Rushing traffic sounds died in my head.
Tourists moved through streets and the smoke of grilling meats and balm of spices.
Once my father was a reflection on a wall, and time collapsed for the time of listening
to what couldn’t be imagined and the sound of that elusive lost boy among
other lost boys who found passage out on ships, who stuffed themselves
into a crease the way a sock is folded into itself and stuffed inside a satchel
and the satchel moves across latitudes with the clarity of shadows.
