Sucursala

traveling with the circus
offers new ways to measure
centimetres between thought-outs and
the colourings of my heart pencil;
the territory of pines
is one from one side of the train tracks,
then when the train passes again
it blooms into a forest of possibilities

i come to discover
each place is a local branch of life,
and banking with each account
is something that cares for something

i was asked to put my money back into
the roots where i was born,
so as to stop the rotting and the felling
of possibilities
but that's not what is happening.

instead
canopies are crowding in eyes
seeing rivers as snakes
clouds as dust-trails of great migrations
trains as neuron signals
humans as sieves through which
black watermelon seeds don't pass

but rain does,
slowly :

permeate

walls dampen to the touch
and it makes people cold,
scarves and gloves colder

all the while the train shakes through the forest inside
this is that so-globe
and brings me back to where i left off
with an extra ring drawn 
right in my centre.