Pennsylvania

I'm not thinking of Pennsylvania,   but it comes anyway,
popping up in the distance once I've travelled far enough,

but it could just as easily be   Sri Lanka/Mozambique/Argentina;
   if you let yourself go,   there's no telling where you'll end up;
      there's no telling   what mountain will guide you
				            or what ocean will drown you.

So Pennsylvania grabs hold of my legs   & shakes my bones
   'til I'm screaming Susquehanna & Allegheny;
& I'm kidnapped   by Hershey Park   & the Liberty Bell
				      & by the Little League World Series.
				     

I feel as if possessed   by an ad from PA's Tourism Board,
   but this could just as easily be
my own apartment,   the 4 blank walls of my bedroom,   the toilet
									            that doesn't flush,
   a living room ceiling
    leaking to the rhythm   of Pachelbel's Canon in D;

it could be   the local supermarket
   or my office job
or the morning traffic jam   or the moment of my death
					         in some ICU   I never saw myself in;

   but instead   it's Pennsylvania;
instead,   it's a decision to leave it all behind,   irrevocably,   at least
										       for a few days,

heading straight for nowhere   & into the leafy embrace
   of some woods I've never heard of before.
I'm outside of myself   as others   & myself know me,

& I take a left   by a stone with no name,   then a right
   at a tree that looks like all the rest;
then   I'm as lost as I've ever been,   which is to say:   Here I am.