Departure

It’s hard to leave. I have to pull away from my body just to drive down the street. And yet, I dream of other places and my house wraps python tight around my chest if I stay there too long. I read a story once of a man who split in two—he became a traveler, and a teacher. The traveler ran to the stars, the teacher stayed wooden desk rooted to the earth. Sometimes I wish I were that man. I would send myself out to be a pirate. I would slash and burn, grog bury myself in the worst ports on earth and I would be an animal—a vicious rogue of the seas that attacked the land locked like a drunken typhoon. But I would also be a lover, a father, and an asset to those that live around me. I would plant and grow. I would create and shape a world of peace that at random times my other self could come ashore and destroy.