a friend to me are you small pot
you stare right back from where I squat
with belly round and funny nose
that stretches out quite like a hose

or maybe like an elephant
you bellow loud with grand torrent
but that’s not quite the metaphor
for you don’t spray but rather pour

i’m happy for your secrecy
it really means the world to me
for you have seen me at my worst
and hold true tales best left unversed

i fall apart in front of you
you comfort me as mothers do
you help me up and on my way
but not for long, I’m back to pray

i wandered off to see the world
rode planes trains and automobiles
buses and taxis
and walked
in Bourton
drank tea with clotted cream and scones
in Cheltenham
argued late into the night
prayed in Cafés
cried in a Church
in Bath
walked with cold rain in my face
and dried off in an art gallery
in London
spent too much on tubes
wrote some blues
in Shanghai
heard a Christmas Cantata
rode the worlds fastest maglev
in Shenyang
caroled
went to a public bath house
woke up way to early
in Hong Kong
rode the MTR
saw a man change his pants in a photo booth
walked the length of Nathan Road
in Macau
saw new Casinos
slept in a closet
ate things I don’t want to talk about
and others I do
free soloed an unattended wall
I slept on a plane
took lots of pictures
made lots of memories
and a few friends
I got lost
tried to go home
but where?

http://www.flickr.com/photos/ncharles/sets/72157594373816573/