Customs Stop Before That Faraway Place Poem by Erik Wilson

If I could cross over to your mind-

Tell me what I would find?

Endless fastidious fields of books?

Would I meet T.S. Eliot and Romantic Dickens reading and sighing under the big oak trees?

Are there even oak trees?

I am questioning every village in the area when I get there-

to see the fireplaces they use to light their hovels.

Would there be music-

Pan flutes, trombones and Billy Joel?

Tell me what to anticipate-

Let me open your mind- to SEE what I would find.

Would I find good looks-

a warm cat on my lap?

Venetian pools of kinetic kindness?

Would I find timeless merriment and wild peals of drunken debauchery?

Would there be knights in angst?

Rosebushes of heavy love?

I am opening the mahogany door-

of your ability.