A Place I'll Never Be

Let's just go! Let's go!
Get the hell out of here!
Let's go to a place where there's none of this.
Let's go to a place where a creek runs through the town
   it ends at a waterwheel that turns round at the old mill house.
C'mon, let's go! Go with me.
It's up there, I think. In the mountains, We can drive there. And hike.
We can camp by a cold lake and warm by the fire
   and you can hold me by my shoulders, kiss my neck,  and tell me you love me.
I need to go. Now.
I need to go walk the galleries coffeehouses '
   and talk to locals about brush strokes and brew strengths
      I need to get a job at a second-hand book shop
      where I can live in an apartment up the stairs
      and grow free range chicken and mushrooms out the back stockroom door.
     You can run the business stuff. And I can make artisinal breads to sell the tourists.
      And I'll practice Reiki,
C'mon, let's go. I need to go. I'm going.
 I was going to go. I was going to go with you.
I'm waiting to go there with you
Still waiting.
Still needing.
To go.

(c) Julie Bartha-Vasquez, 2013

The Millstream at the Woodstock Inn
in Woodstock, NY

Notes on the Poem:
This is another make-up poem. The prompt today was to write a poem of "hello." I didn't quite do that here... This describes a place I've always wanted to visit, from the point of view of 20-year-old me. 41-year-old me still wants to visit there someday, but I will never see it as I dreamed of it as a 20 year old.

Form-wise, I didn't follow a specific traditional format. I could not find one I thought would work, but when I go back to rewrite -- and I will -- I hope by then to have found a formal format, or to have come up with a scheme of some sort. The more I do this, the more convinced I am that poems have more of an impact when they follow a pre-determined format. That, and I know enough to know that I don't know enough to know when to break the rules yet. Hey - that might be a poem:

I know enough
to know that
I don't know
enough to know
when to break
the rules

And BOOM goes the dynamite! Suck it Donald Rumsfeld. I just talked circled around your poetic circle talk. --WNG