Stark Street Blues

Stark Street Blues

“Romancing the Stone” = Romanticizing the Zone

I don’t really remember

that movie,

but I do recall

how much I wanted to be here.

Bakko National Park in Sarawak, Borneo. A vision arriving, an illusion leaving.

Bakko National Park in Sarawak, Borneo. A vision arriving, an illusion leaving.

How much I

wanted to go there

how I worked and

worked and saved

and sacrificed

money and time and friends

and jobs and careers and family

and “success”

 

Just to go there

to see that

to walk that soil

and be that girl

who spoke that language

just to know

what it looked like

how it tasted

what I thought and felt

where it was

on another map.

 

And I did go.

I was that girl.

I have pictures to

prove it.

I have stories, too.

So many stories

welling in my brain

spewing out my tongue

clouding my vision

and sometimes

making me think

I am still there.

 

I have so many

stories

I don’t know what

to do with, don’t quite

know how to tell

 

But I am that girl

howling in the daytime

aching for the dream

again and again and

again.

 

I don’t know what

else to do,

how else to

live

beside being

that girl

mad to GOGOGO

 

I could tell you

about some places

I’ve been-

my impression, my vision,

my analysis.

But I could tell you

more about where I want to

GO

where I want

to BE and

how I don’t know how

TO STOP.
I wish I could

be in one place,

but it’s always

scattered

like pieces of a broken

lamp, shards you find

hidden

years later.

I am everywhere

and yet I am a ghost

to myself-

a shadow

with a palpable presence.

 

I am nowhere

I don’t know where

anymore-

was it Thailand or

Cambodia or Borneo?

Maybe Spain or Nigeria

or Iceland?

Or Colombia or Nicaragua

or Brazil?

Have I been there?

Or will I go there?

I can’t remember

anymore.

Graffiti Art in Managua, Nicaragua: Shackled Hands

Graffiti Art in Managua, Nicaragua: Shackled Hands

Present, past, future-

they’re just tenses

of what my life is, has been, and will be

filled with.

Does it matter if

it’s already happened, or yet to?

What is the difference between

memories and daydreams, anyhow?

 

I’m too lost in thought…

I could be anywhere,

really.

 

But at least I’m that girl

who’s done things

and been places

and spoken languages

and toed the line…

I can tell you

a story or two

about what it’s like

to be lost

in the world, about

what it’s like

to be that girl

who wants her

backyard to be

all seven continents

and has desire

that just won’t quit.

 

And so I’ll sacrifice

a little more

work

a lot harder

so I can make

these stories

a little clearer, make

the dreams

unbearably vivid,

just so I can

GO and SEE and DO,

and tell you how

I want to do it all over again

somewhere else, somewhere

new.

 

And it just won’t

STOP- that desire-

it doesn’t know

how to settle.

That WORD, that feeling,

this restlessness

will probably drive me

MAD

before I can go any

farther, before

I can tell you

further

how the story

of my life

has unfolded, where

it has gone , or

where it will be.

 

Most likely it

will be everywhere

and I

will be nowhere.

But you’ll have

my words and

my pictures and

know

that THAT

made me

HAPPY.

La Casa Azul in Coyoacan, Mexico: Filled with tragic, artistic, emotion-filled history.

La Casa Azul in Coyoacan, Mexico: Filled with tragic, artistic, emotion-filled history.

More than any man,

more than the promise of

seeing

my hypothetical child’s

face,

TRAVEL and writing

have made me

HAPPY

and also

have driven me insane.

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