You are the exotic destination
I depart to, my fervent feet
walking the streets
to the Venice of your heart.

Or perhaps you are Oliphants,
deep in the Kruger, from where high
above thorn trees, I watch hippopotamus
float down the river somehow.

Or perhaps the Eiffel Tower,
shimmering in the morning light,
from where I look down at the city
laid out like the story of a novel.

You dream and then one day,
you step on a plane and arrive
to do the most ordinary things
in the most exotic way.

You are my destination,
sometimes nearly ordinary,
sometimes taking
my breath away.