I Have a Picture.

Another frame.
Another nail.
Another space taken up
on my wall.

New Zealand.
Peru.
Alaska.
Baton Rouge.

For years, I’ve collected
scene after scene.

New York.
Spain.
The Eiffel Tower.
A distant flower.

I’m running out of room.

The Arctic is cold.
The Tropics are warm.
Hawaii is a destination
I dream of.

Actually,
I dream of them all.

I only have these pictures.
I’ve never been anywhere.
Because I’ve never left my room.

-ecj
11.19.2014

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2 comments

  1. M. Alden says:

    The sense of entrapment, of longing, is so well-expressed in this poem.

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