Northward Bound
And lo, the great exodus into the exurbs began;
and the choices were few;
and the rent was fucking expensive;
and the commute was shortened;

To the migrants, an angel decended.
And unto the migrants this angel said:
"Fear not, o' migrants,
your time in this wasteland will apply
toward your eternal fate."

And the migrants drank heavily.


posted at: 09:07 | path: | permanent link to this entry

Cross-Country
I think of the thousands of curves and slopes,
around and over hills,
sea-surf sounds over engine's steady rhythm,
damp, cool, taste of fog,
the thousands of miles paid to feel them --
repaid in returning.


posted at: 08:58 | path: | permanent link to this entry