Fifteen days

Fifteen days is what I have on my hands
not enough

before I kiss the marble atop the river, make senseless incantations
to three friends in leather jackets
a dancing night were I saw nothing but fog rise and fall
on a dance-floor
a flare of all the walks I took under green trees that turn rancid yellow
overnight
a space that contained my body, a room I called home
because home can shrink and become just four walls

when I arrived, my body rejected this room
rejected thoughts of me lying on a stranger's bed
calling it my own
rejected the hugs I received from a woman who is
older. bolder, as clear as crystal

senseless these poems,
this idle life, quiet like nothing can reach you
this desire to be like a creek
contain water, bugs, bodies
this is what you do not have to fight for, easy

fifteen days I go back
to where I fit like a glove, to where the mountains meet
the clouds, that meet God, that is
humans. I travel in reverse, heart first
then suitcase, memories, a joy
where I wake up by roosters calling
prying at the importance of morning

fifteen days and I walk back, with a head held high
to the fast-track days, mornings that fall into nights
tell my pillow  and my bed that I enjoy thier comfort
but
I am not ready