Somewhere the Moon Looks Different

Sometimes I wonder whether the moon would feel different from somewhere else.

Of course it would be the same moon.

I know that.

But I imagine standing near a window in a city far away and looking at it without remembering every other window I have watched it from.

Maybe that is what I mean when I say I want to leave.

Not to abandon everything.

Just to see familiar things without the weight of familiar eyes.

A moon that belongs to no memory.

A street that does not know my footsteps.

A room where I have never learned to be quiet.

And for once, a life that meets me before anyone tells it who I am supposed to be.