Through time

Down in the dumps again,
curving through time again,
fond memories only remind me
of happy times that are now over
and goals once pursued and then given up
too soon
have lead me to this empty place
where I sit, as my mom says,
“waiting for time.”
Of course I can attribute most
of my bad choices to bipolar,
or depression,
or brain injury,
or whatever the fuck I have.
But it doesn’t make me feel better.
At any rate,
all has conspired to leave me here,
this temporary still-born palace of life,
the one I can renounce whenever I choose,
and go back to life in an ashram paradise,
the very one I left because it limited my freedom,
or so I thought.
Now I remember with nostalgia
the sweaty day-after-day
of south India in May,
my white shirt like a second wet skin,
sweeping the canteen floors
only thinking of being back in my room
where I could listen to music that I chose,
not the unending bhajans from speakers too loud,
and dreaming only of being back here in the west…
So I can only conclude
that it doesn’t matter where I am,
I always dream of being somewhere else.
So where am I?
Only here, now.
7/28/17