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THE TRAVELER

By Leana Ramirez

How to live when eyes have seen,


The Arabs with their riads, their pearly oils

Rolling on your sun-kissed bohemian arms

Kissed by the same sun as your long-lost friend

Where the Fuji volcano sleeps soundly


The melancholic waters of the sea,

The pearl of the Caribbean, standing still

Before your eyes, eyes like winds, silently,

Surely inciting the most chaotic of hurricanes


The time-eating towers of concrete countries,

The heat of the soil that your bare feet feel

When they, without a doubt, crossed the wilderness

Of the path from your bench to mine


The opaque dust of ice-cold endeavours

The ones that pushed us to vertiginous heights,

Whilst our feet remained blue and our hands

Ever-so pale at the sight of such a winter desert


How to live? My bed is nails and my house is mold.


My clothes are rags and my food is old.


A tramp in my own home,


To roam is dupe gold.

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