Tag: travel

the journey ends at home

~ Wolf ~ Leave a comment

the journey begins at home and ends at home and
different people are there, tapping their watches and
stealing fleet-fingered glances from the clocks; figuring
train schedules and grocery store hours and
what to wear in case it rains, or is foggy, or there’s
a dust storm or tsunami or
the wildfires bring ash down like warm, stinking snow.
the journey
can show you all of these places, or none of them,
through circuses or slaughterhouses,
over trenches or under bridges;
the journey can take you there, too, but remember
that it begins at home and ends at home,
and if you aren’t at home right now, well,
good news:
you’re heading there.

Businessman’s Leisure

~ Wolf ~ Leave a comment

And I am relaxing more, now, in fact
a 36% increase year over year in relaxation that
correlates roughly with my increased productivity at work, yes,
my relaxation is definitely key to my production, so
it makes sense to relax as efficiently as possible
(with an eye towards future growth, obviously),
and invest my time into the relaxation methodologies
with the best historical returns;
I’ve angled the right beaches and
scaled the best-reviewed peaks, I’ve
bought the most expensive beach-houses,
paid for the best tours and
done all the research, pored
through the journals, spent weeks
planning for an hour of skiing,
and I’ve taken the right drugs with the right people
in the right deserts.
I’m back now, better than ever,
recharged, on top,
and ready to answer some emails.

1/8/19 – travel

~ Wolf ~ Leave a comment

We piled in on the megabus at 22nd street
Before the dawn, with the stars slipping down
And we were many, we were weary, we were nodding to music
We were old men who had long worn a frown
And there was nothing, nothing good, at the end of this trip
Not for me.
Not for anyone at all.
And we were strangers, and we knew it
Not a soul among us questioned,
Not the woman with her bible
Or her husband watching Miami Heat
Because we knew, always knew, that it had to be like this
No hands shaken, no words spoken – not a one.
Just the road slurring by,
And the crawl of the sun.