MOVING OUT

After you married
and your word
traveled only so far
and the harbor child
will not stop crying
you escape
to the green mountains
with your warm sweater,
poetry demands to be
on flex hours
yet to feel that you notice
the fauna, the rocks,trees
less these city days
you badly need a break
in the grey clouds
to transform yourself
out of time
and plant yourself
somewhere out of place
before your existence
is frozen on your watch
among familiar landscapes
or you will become
a couch potato
with foreign films
going non stop
in the living room.