Heat warms Pacific
Breezes blowing through jungles;
I am jumping timelines in a tuna can: Boston to New York, New York to Seoul, Seoul to Manila, Manila to Ilo Ilo.
“What day is it?” I ask for days.
I am tomorrow’s yesterday even though today is the day I live in all the time. I feel bigger on the inside than on the outside and there’s no room even to pray as the seasons pass away along with my schedule and my knowledge of routine. What am I supposed to do?
Now the cold returns.
Sharp intake of frigid air.
New England winter.
I return to yesterday in a sardine can: Ilo Ilo to Manila, Manila to Seoul, Seoul to Boston.
“Why am I going back?” I ask.
I am fatter from the salt I ate in tomorrow. The worst is yet to come. In yesterday day is night and night is day and for days upon days I wrestle to sleep. Even now, week’s out, I wake up and forget when I am. Somehow in the third Heaven that seems OK. What am I supposed to do?
Then, time remains still.
I breathe, “bali bali” has
Passed at last away.