Greedy and Grateful for Roaming Roads
a poem about giving in to wanderlust again
One Hundred Days of Gratitude. Twenty-nine.
Next time someone has the audacity to ask me what I’m
doing “next” I’m
going to get two old-time tickets
for a steamship
sip mint juleps
in an all-white suit, waving a cigar
while sailing away
way fast and way far.
Next time someone just has to ask
if I’m dating or what I’m doing
I’m going to wander into the woods and
stop shaving, with way too much whiskey and
way too many axes, get lost
nice and good
if I could.
Next time, I
catch my reflection
out of the corner of my eye.
Until I run out of sun.
Until I trip on new roots
of a tree yet