Weightless
Travel is dangerous
When you wander a foreign city alone.
Not because of conmen or robbers
Terrorists or muggers
Rogue taxis, police shakedowns
Rabid dogs, reckless buses.
No.
Travel is dangerous
When you wander a foreign city alone
Where everyone’s a stranger,
And no-one will call your name.
You drift the streets
Invisible as a ghost
You float through cafes
And flicker through galleries
Like the bright morning light -
When you leave
There’s no trace you were ever there.
You feel strange, weightless
Like you have helium in your boots,
Left the heavy part of yourself behind.
You wonder when the wind picks up
Whether you might drift away
And never come back.
