Canoe

I escape with none of them seeing.

I have aspirin, a potato, soup,             

and the cat—

for once again,

an unplanned trip.

They don’t know I’m gone

or to look for me

and when I return,

I am the same.

With the same loss

of tears

loss of time

aboard the same

craft

with no change in course.            

They don’t know I’m gone

or what I think

about regret

about loneliness

or about any 

thing at all

when I look in the face

of some brilliant moon

or their faces

because I never quite

step from the craft

having been gone

having been back.