Cars let us live
anywhere in the country;
airplanes, anywhere in the world.
Vacations can take us
to places outrageous,
beyond where the old explorers had sailed.
But however far
we go in a car,
or high, on our magic wings,
we never arrive,
however we strive,
at the source of meaningful things.
You cannot take a vacation
from yourself or the life you lead;
you only can slip away for awhile,
returning to watch yourself bleed.
You never eluded your aches and pains,
or found a place to hide,
because the place you really live
is buried, deep inside.