I want to sail away
to a small island
somewhere beyond
the edge of nowhere
and send you small notes
back from time to time
in a bottle I’d emptied
of its headier content
just to let you know
I’m doing fine even
if I’m not or how
lovely the weather
of my remoteness is,
how I love the fruits
of my lack of labor
and fish the bright
waters just hand
over, how soothingly
the waves lick the sand
as if they were secret
lovers, somewhere
there in the sun where
I can lie on the beach
and think of you
living without me,
and miss you,
just a little,
but safe here
under the palms
where
I can’t be
reached, not
even remotely.
