a poem a day for a year #73

by Amy Turn Sharp


What if you just shoved it all in storage lockers and ran across the world 
big old runaway
pushing towards the sea
swaggering across continents
muddy feet on maps
and you always wore bandanas
and you always said yes
and money wasn't real
you are a barter bandit
trading mad love
for biscuits
for whiskey
for hammocks
anything really

but all the money in the world
is stacked up against the bet
the odd odds
that there is someplace
you would like to turn up again
someplace you have not been 
in years


you would stop running and 
you would stroll on into this place
break the silence 
say hello to someone
who recognizes you instantly
like a mirror in a discotheque
arms moving
laughs
like house music
and you study the mouth
teeth bite down on bottom lip
just for a split second
air leaves lung
lip reading moment

where have you been?

and of course you won't have a good answer
we never do
when we break hearts