Malarepa said that only
By leaving one's native land
Can one be immune from anger.
Here in Venice by black and white Pali
I was no longer angry.
I watched green water slosh over a white curb,
Splash up to become drops of white,
Sparkle like diamonds, then fall
To become a silver flow over green tiles.
As the silver flows it becomes
Streaks of silver, like her white gold hair.
I then remember a line from Luis Cernuda:
"I am oppressed by the sins,
I had neither the chance
Or the strength to commit."
Charlotte, North Carolina Airport
Business men around me slap cards on their briefcases,
Play poker. Penelope is knitting a Chihuahua sweater.
I always carry a sea stone in my pocket.
I rub the sea stone's blonde skin.
The plane is late;
I, underwater, am far away from airport.
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