I wish I could identify the
birds I hear around me.
I wish I knew the right names of the
mountains over there.
The shrubs, the trees, the weeds
are all alien to me.
I’m a traveller who never studied
the culture I visit.
I still enjoy the cool breeze
of spring – as far as I know.
I enjoy the sun on my skin,
the light through sunglasses,
the quiet, the open, the still
old friends in a strange land.
Or – is it a trick of the mind?
Do I fool myself so I will
believe this life is livable?
Am I the stranger having no
business studying the land –
no need to know about
the birds, the mountains,
the trees, the shrubs, the weeds,
the breeze, the sun.
I am the illusion?


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