Against the rotation of the globe
(a poem by DanShaw.com)
From the discomfort of my envious time-worn green couch I travel
vicariously from Vienna to Sulawesi by video
hiding behind the remote control and channel five
glimpsing life through the pin-hole
of the big screen
wishing for a one-way boarding pass
on a jetliner business class
overseas against the rotation of the globe.
Years pass cowarding about the paths
of a small town without a mountain or canyon
without a spectacular view.
Breathtaking vistas await aboard flight one-oh-five
from transatlantic terminal to anywhere
Familiar ruts reveal the pale shadow longing casts over courage.
What serpent offers what apple to eject this naive man from dismal desert
to lion's den
What strange sun rises over unknown horizons
What unsure sands will support the foot
What travails can be side-stepped between dusk and dark?
How much plainness and porridge can be endured
before irksome comfort is thrown from the brink
to venture past armed border guards
to venture where not even breakfast speaks my language
where rock and flint and chalk could not be more foreign
where every number needs translation
nothing can be expected.
Discontent seethes beneath the TV guide.