For a moment, while I read through my thoughts
I vacation to the remotest confines of the unexpected,
and I need no trekking boots to explore the limits
of the impossible,
and in the gloomiest place at the gloomiest hour
I become the sun you look for in Spain
or that freshness that fills your lungs in the Alps,
and I smile at your innocent way
of finding beauty
around you,
while I can find it
in you,
in my words,
and can shape it
to my taste
while I can’t sleep from the excitement
of doing nothing.
