To Go Away.(Poem)

 
TO GO AWAY 
 
   is to unplug busyness, lock up routine, 
   travel for eight hours, arrive at 
   the Grand Hotel des Bains and unpack 
   in a bedroom without a soupcon of trend 
 
   but with four doors and French windows 
   that could feature in a Feydeau farce; is to recline 
   in the lounge sipping the transparent gold 
   of milkless tea and history's grandeur. 
 
   Being away is to stroll down to the river 
   which cuts through the town, is to gorge 
   on its ambered browns and mineral greens, 
   is to be immersed in its gushing voice 
 
   as it rushes over the weir and parts into tails 
   that drift sideways like the threads of ideas 
   which refuse to connect; is to follow 
   the white gabble at stones in the riverbed. 
 
   Being away is to peer into the spa centre 
   where the overweight, swathed in white towels,  ...