Leaving

Madrid

The plane lifts off and
my heart goes forward and
my body goes back.

Down there you're somewhere
insignificant, all disappeared,
wrapped up in cloud.

The yellow streets and their windows
and the moon moving through them -
I’ll miss everything about this city.

Only for a second - and then
it goes. The missing,
it comes back when I’m

driving. I turn the radio up and
go round the bend fast and
loud enough not to feel it -

at some point you have to
choose a life you want
before it leaves you and then

all you’re doing is leaving.
And all you have are memories
of all the people you have been.