Towing my brain into Towyn,
aiming for something static
to keep my thoughts from
lagging behind my actions,
from drifting off and taking
on a form of their own
or, worse, from sprinting on
ahead of my slowing feet,
I take the long road, slicing
a cuboid city into two identical
halves, my brain kidding me –
teasing back the zipper that
holds this bag of plastic
together,
pulling it apart at the
seal, so that the road
in front of me splits, opens
out, making my feet panic,
step upon step, unable to
move forward
until, winning and elated, the
deep Earth takes me down,
reclaiming whatever it is in me that
crossed over to set foot upon Salopian soil
all those lives ago.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, August 3rd, 2019
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 