in and out of it

I'm sitting in the sun but I can feel the cool escaping the house.
I'm leaving home again.
Packing up to go home.
Back to my childhood
to visit myself.

It's been a crazy time, this shifting of houses, this changing of perspectives. I've scrubbed myself raw, glazed my mind with frankincese and we still lost money on the security bond. Safety is an illusion of credibility. Accounting is a poor subsititute for karmic law.

But the wattles still bloom here
the sea still washes the mangroves
in that old place
and I wonder if
the mountains will sing
the flowers remember
the blue bottles still sparkle
when i return home.