Nobody found himself wandering
in a different century. He didn’t plan
on this—it is just where the plane
landed, right in a field. Imagine
his shock as he watched the luggage
being unloaded to donkey and cart,
wheels hardly even round, his bags
looked like the dead being
hauled away. The stench
should have tipped him off. When
he had built up a thirst, he noticed
there were no sinks or faucets,
no pipe work at all, just people
moping around, unable to rinse off
the filth of some recent war. At least
he saw a river nearby, and a well.
Really, all he wanted was a drink,
but at the river a dead horse
and a battalion of corpses floated past
from some unknown place
to some unknown place, and he couldn’t
drink at all. So he went to the well,
slowly let out the rope,
and as he looked down the opening,
he imagined himself
back home, smiling in Colorado,
thought of how all this travel
everywhere else
has destroyed his life there,
and then the bucket kissed
the surface, rippling over
that image, that face
lost like a coin.
Photo Source: Moot
Enjoyed