A Poem About Travel

 

I once thought of you

On a road towards Himachal Pradesh.
Upon reaching a summit in
the Himalayas, and once
standing in front of the Taj Mahal,
I thought of you.

I once thought of you
in a park in Notting Hil
when I was with another man.
While walking by the Thames,
within sight of the Eye,
I thought of you.

I once thought of you
while riding a bike in Amsterdam.
I thought of you, high, I thought of
you, low,
I thought of you while
crossing all the canals.

I thought of you
By the Louvre, and by the Seine,
and on all the streets of Montmartre.
I thought of you with
two morning croissants,
and one cappuccino,
to go.

I thought of you once
at 6am on the U-bahn
and the entire night that I spent
in the Old East Germany.

I once thought of you
in the Casablanca Airport,
where I stole drags of cigarettes,
just because I knew
you would.

And I thought of you here,
in the Ashanti Kingdom.
Where my mindscape is kente-cloth
and praying for rain.

But to me it was all the same
because
I thought of you.

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