You have the fragrance of the daring trip,
dust of the four corners of the world
wreathes your shoulders.
I extend an offering of stability
and intimate knowing of the particular.
I navigate, shortcut,
time to precision,
while you spin tales of the universe.
We kiss in the parking lot
a space of no dimension
not traveling arrow
no anchor bones or stories.
My hands journey far
in search of your stories
my thumb finds adventure behind your ear
I sample the foreign spices, fruits and sweet grains.
You crave now the adventure of landing
nestling into me
rooting your buoyant spirit
© 2000 John P. Nordin. Do not copy.