Contemplating a voyage with a friend.


To India

Stuart, let’s go to India,
together
It would probably kill us,
or at least the relationship
All that fathering,
all that brothering,
when your father’s missing
and my brother is as well

But there’s dusty roads there
and dusty souls,
looking from behind dark eyes,
on trains with chickens
and I am chicken too,
but not too much to go
Running ahead of the dust,
ahead of the monsoon

My camera needs the lines
in faces,
a thousand years
of lines in faces
A treeless sub-continent,
except for the forests
And men who know
the crack in the earth
will never close
Let’s go to India, my friend

Poetry Collection: Broken Pieces
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman’s
poetry collection
BROKEN PIECES
available here in print
or as an e-Book
in your favorite formats.