A Walk On The Weird Side: Reality Jumping

It is easier to have a routine,
but easy is an ugly word,
and my life has never
been routine.

Walking the dog
through snow-clogged lanes,
I dance between
Northern Ontario,
and the mountains
above Srinagar.
Treading lightly,
I walk through the pines
of Desierto de los Leones,
above Mexico City,
and walk the treeline
at Popocatépetl,
stunned at being,
amazed at being here,
overwhelmed at being here, now.

Dog and I return,
through our own pines,
and check the bird feeders.
A time lurch,
and I am on the verandah
at the Asa Wright Centre
in Trinidad,
watching the birds feeding:
neon colours on wings.
Glitch...and I silently watch
a dancing peacock
in Yala National Park,
in Sri Lanka,
only a kilometre away
from a beach where waves break
in an ocean that stretches
to Antarctica.

Inside, with fresh coffee,
I am shifted to a hotel
on the ski slopes of
Ceausescu’s Romania,
drinking a cappuccino
the taste of which 
I shall never forget.

It is easier to have a routine,
to stay focussed on the present,
but easy was never the name
of the highways
upon which I have travelled.