by Jason Bredle
Then all of a sudden
we were getting off the train at the zoo,
only to find the zoo closed at sunset.
I guess the animals need their beauty rest,
you said, but it was too cold for the zoo,
and you had to get on a plane to London.
I’d been through this
so many times before,
always with a mix of sadness
and irritation with its tedious nuances—
never the canteen, compass,
or first aid kit one would need.
I boarded a flight to Copenhagen
the next day, and the rest, as they say,
has been redacted.
Still, I’ll never forget that night
standing outside the World of Sex,
wondering, is this it?
It was something someone once asked me
on the mezzanine
of the Miami Intercontinental
and it seemed apropos,
as if I were experiencing some kind of
reverse déjà vu.
You’ll never really figure anything out
and everything is totally random,
yet, for some reason, you have to keep going.
And at the end of the day,
what do you have to show for it?
Four and a half weeks in Berlin
without ever having seen the sun?