we are now at the state
of being home around a week
i’m getting farther and farther away from
being able to say
“i just got back from Europe”
i’m soon going to have to use terms like
“recently”
and then “last month”
and “earlier this year”
i just want to keep saying “just”
it helps with the fact that
my brain is still 100%
in Europe
my shirt
still kind of smells
like all the memories
made
in Europe
unfortunately
it’s all the mundane
or slightly grungy memories
that this scent evokes
walking and walking and walking
in shirts i’d already maybe worn twice
mixing sweat with deodorant
with sunscreen
with city
i washed this shirt well
put it through an extra rinse and everything
i guess when a trip gets into the fibers of clothing
it’s sort of like a city getting into your own bones
it just won’t go
away on its own
how come i am so hyper-aware
of every moment in time
and how they will become memories
in the next moment
so much so that, even trying to experience them, i am often thinking
fifteen minutes[at least] into the future
i feel like i was barely in the moment
of looking forward to this trip
and only in it
for half a second
and now i’m back
and looking back on
experiences i know took time to have
but now they live only in my
memory
while we didn’t fall in love with Lisbon
like we thought we might
we definitely fell in love with Europe
and the fact that people here
seem to be a little bit more functional/
the democracies around here
definitely are more functional
than the shitshow we left
and are now approaching back
and Paris
the surprise contender
from least likely
to most
in our future endeavors
[is it just that we fall in love with
anything
that reminds us of New York?]
[is that the moral of this whole experience?]
i can see why
people love this tree
and personify [her] to the point of
pronouns
she is something truly
living
and being,
imposing
and consoling
there is something
here
underneath her
in her shade
in her presence
that i find
indescribable
but inscrutably
here
i breathe her in
and hope she knows
all the love i bring
with me
here
to her
merit
find it
a way out
a way down
turning at each sharp angle
careening down steep, cobblestone hills
bump
bump
bump
veer
and bump
historical and exciting
and mundane as any day
the tram service
this is a trip of
a little bit flying by the seat of our pants
a little bit months and months of planning
and a frothy topping of
walking
everywhere
kipventures 