In Paris with No Clothes

Tracing the lines to Orly Airport
baggage gone missing
$200 in my pocket,
two months across the lonely continent.
So tell me, where does the time go?

Thirty years, another opus
stripped bare of non-essentials.
There are no fictions
only roads that lead to impasse.
Or the rotary so notorious
it circles endlessly,
the mind unyielding.

I am the architect of my dreams
I am floating, iridescent on the necklace
of the sea, the horizon
wavers in the distance
unconditional
without intention.
I am fearless
at the center
of truth.