Southeast Asia

Waking to a gecko on the ceiling,
Breathing freely in camouflaged living,
I realize I have slept beside him
In so many small, musty rooms--
A million breaths in sync . . .
In love with my displacement,
I am absent to the world,
Imitating the dreams of monks,
Bowing in the shadow of Buddha
And meditating into existence
Thousands of yellow butterflies . . .
When I am too close to home,
I crave the scattered smells
And lost colors of mysterious cultures,
And myself moving in rhythm with them--
I am dispersed forever
In tropical winds away from home,
Swaying with coconut palms and dancing gods,
Spilled, like incense, across pineapple fields,
And across oceans like loose sand.