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“I Shall Not Walk, But Ride”

ISSUE:  Fall 2012

The Traveler’s Vade Mecum, Line #8266

She went to Zurich to rescue a man.
She’d made all the necessary maps.
Paul Klee would’ve painted this woman
not as a dot, or a flirtation of curves,
but as a series of arrows—
an imperative command in a dress.
She’d located a cathedral, a museum,
a river, a red-light district, a bar
outfitted with airplane parts.
They walked the Limmat’s banks,
feeding chocolate to the swans.
The man kissed her once, twice.
The man did not want rescuing.
She ascended Pilatus by cable car,
then went barefoot on spindly stairs.
Up, up. The traveler never means
to become a traveler. She chewed clouds
into leather. She bit down, and rode on.


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