Nowhere to Call

Where am i supposed to find you?
have we waited past our penance?
satisfied society’s requirements of transitions
to avoid hushed voices?

I’ve no more canals to transit –
seas of each colour crossed
20 words in 30 languages
origami wallet with flotsam of currencies
bordering between souvenir and re-entry ease

Dusty rucksack with light wool suit, Arab robe, sleeping costume, swim pants
and another notebook…
full with soliloquies about you
and questions, for you

The ship to shore radio
(apparently)
but i’ve nowhere to call
rather, no one to call

Only wonder
“How will you find me here?”
as my location is unknown
though charted, i assume