Some people [traveling through the Swiss Alps] apparently even had landscapes with tidy Greek temples and other classical scenes painted on the inside of the carriage blinds to protect them against the vast disorder outside.
- Sara Maitland A Book of Silence
I sometimes lose myself in the murals
on the walls of my room.
I have no idea who painted them.
They remind me of an episode of
Tales from the Dark Side
but I try not to go there often
because as I recall,
the guy who got into the painting
in the episode I’m talking about
couldn’t get out
kind of like Vincent Price’s head
getting stuck on the body of a fly
in the final scene of the original movie
pleading Help me!
to a woman on a park bench
as a spider closes in.
But forget that scenario.
Re-entry is always a problem
given the current kneejerkiness
over national security.
It makes me think about profiles
but don’t worry
I’m not going to segue
into a diatribe on profiling.
I’ll save that for another poem.
But then, if getting out is tough
maybe I’d be better off
hanging out there for a while.
We all need to get away occasionally, yes?
