In the parking lot of a Burger King on the Canadian border

On the bluestone terrace of a bed and breakfast in Vermont

By the cobwebbed window of a general store in the Redwoods

A quiet side street, a rushing river, an elegant table for two:
These are the places I go without going anywhere.

The places I’ve been in past lives,

The places I’d go if unencumbered

by lack of freedom and finances,

responsibility and restrictive routines.

But one blip on the timeline,
they come back to me

as I once went to them.