Version 2
Another State
My boredom, like a cat, brushes my skin,
urging me where I know I should not go,
convincing me that life is sweeter in
another state, a place I do not know.
I’ll run and leave my discontent behind,
swim in ocean waves, ski mountain snow,
take risky drugs, have one-night stands, and find
the inspiration for my art to flow.
Companions I pick up in squalid bars
prove not to be dependable or true.
I hitchhike in some sketchy strangers’ cars,
lured on by the mirages I pursue.
As long as I keep moving, I can hope,
lie to myself, and get one more tattoo.
At last I reach the end of ride and rope,
admitting what I guess I always knew.
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Edits:
S1L1: Just like a cat, my boredom licks my skin, > My boredom, like a cat, brushes my skin,
S1L6: dive into ocean waves, ski mountain snow, > swim in ocean waves, ski mountain snow,
Add stanza break after S1L8
S2L3m I hitchhike dangerously in strangers’ cars, > I hitchhike in some sketchy strangers’ cars.
S2L5: At last, stripped of my self-respect and pride, > As long as I keep moving, I can hope,
S2L6: In Anchorage, I see that I’ve been fleeing > lie to myself, and get one more tattoo.
S2L7: myself. But here I am at the end of the ride, > At last I reach the end of ride and rope,
S2L8: the only saboteur of my well-being. > admitting what I guess I always knew.
Version 1
Another State
I think my life would be much sweeter in
another state, a place I do not know.
The itch of curiosity licks my skin,
leading me where I know I should not go.
I trick myself to think my goal is nearer,
framing my disappointment in the mirror.
Another state, a place I do not know,
calls me to leave my discontent behind.
I dream of ocean spray or mountain snow,
far from the boredom keeping me confined.
Risky drugs and dangerous acts create
the illusion of escaping the life I hate.
The itch of curiosity licks my skin,
tantalizes my imagination,
calling me relentlessly to sin,
to risk my self-respect and reputation.
To fix myself, find gladness, I am sure
I’ll have to find a geographic cure.
Leading me where I know I should not go,
my own delusions make me think that others,
family, friends, co-workers brought me low.
I flee those selfish comrades, faithless lovers,
seeking companionship in dives and bars,
taking desperate rides in strangers’ cars.
I trick myself to think my goal is nearer
than my pathetic effort would deserve.
I flee them, too, when their schemes become clearer,
and with a downcast heart resolve to swerve
away from past mistakes. Alaska embraces
another failure, offering her graces.
Framing my disappointment in the mirror,
I take my inventory, confess my flaws,
deciding that my peace of mind is dearer
than money, success, or popular applause.
I realize at last that I’ve been fleeing
myself, not looking for my own well-being.
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Edits:
S1L5: tricking myself to think my goal much nearer, > I trick myself to think my goal is nearer,
S5L1: tricking myself to think my goal much nearer > I trick myself to think my goal is nearer