Never much good at judging distances
or my own physical strength, I imagine
this morning that I could swim across
the Mississippi, be in Illinois by lunch.
I can see it clear from here; the grass
you’d be surprised is just as brown yet
still it’s humming: other. O! to emerge
today, on that exotic bank; a tip of my
hat to the cool affronted swans; slowly
stroll to any boxy old café; seek deep &
portly chairs, strange hum, trim cup of
soup – how warming, how well-earned!
Or, more: not swim …