When I land in Vancouver,
I think that,
(just maybe)
I’ll walk to Toronto next instead.

Drag it out,
make it last,

The distance I’ve traveled,
it needs to be further.
Plane journeys are shortcuts,
I need
to stop taking shortcuts.

I need blistered soles
to lessen the blisters on my soul.
I need a rucksack, not
a suitcase. I need
solid ground beneath my feet.

I need the time, I need the distance.
My suitcase squeaks
I’d take shortcuts to
it from doing so.

Let me squeak my way
towards Ontario.
Let me roll it into town
and draw stares
from the strangers I envy.

Chichester, August 2016


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