Away From It All
All I ask for is a minimum of commotion,
and an unimpeded view of the Pacific Ocean.
I'll need a good store of some old-time potion
—say bottled Guinness. Skip the sunburn lotion.
I want to sail boats like a Nova Scotian,
and to follow the tides with a dog-like devotion.
I want to leave behind me all rancid emotion.
I want to be alone. I want to forget Goschen.
I want to lie still, and feel the earth's motion,
with nothing in my head, not a whim or a notion.