i understand why darwin loved it here
how lonely he must have felt
i look out his bedroom window
i lean against his bed post
i hope to hear it creak
it does
this is downe?
2 pubs 
1 street
i try them both
both stools hold my weight
both beers go down easy
5 stars!
i walk
pale green cups hang
backdropped with lace
we care about windows
even if we don’t know it
i see a snail at the bus stop
i think garlic butter
paris
that time we were stuck there
poor us
lovers stuck in the city of love
we went back for more
poor snails
did they water-board that mailbox
«what do they call mailboxes here?»
between a grave and a train yard
this is where some sleep
not in land sheds 
but in water beds
perpetual floats
black waters 
porthole people
peeling garlic
amphibious cats
i snap a photo
years ago a friend of mine
asked if i thought of
family when painting
i said no, he said
good luck with that
and now i understand
but
i had to make a choice
would my Mother approve?
i thumb her ring around my neck
she never got to see london
or paris
i think about the quilt she would have
made for us
and
how perfect it would have been
what can i do to make up for all that?
keep making?
she encouraged the maker
in me
she made me
after all
i’ll keep trying
i’ll keep going
and finally
when i’m home again
i’m asked where i’ve been
like i said
i took the public footpath...