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 this time if I could.

Next time, I catch my reflection out of the corner of my eye. I’ll run. Just run. Until I run out of sun. Until I trip on new roots of a tree yet to come.