A Time Share and A Tummy Ache

Across the Sea

 There was a time,

when my legs still worked

and my feet did not hurt

and we were too young

to fear exotic places.

There was a time ,

when drachmas were still used,

before the euro ruse,

and we’d hop on a ferry to

somewhere,

some island

we did not know,

just a place to go,

trusting, without a doubt,

it would all work out.

We even floated on the Nile,

northward, from Aswan

to Luxor, the only way to

see the Johnny Carson ruins,

the temple of Karnak.

That was before the crazies

started shooting people, with

real-life Uzi’s,

real-life bullets,

real-life hate.

Mugged three times,

we still went,

the big cities,

Barcelona, Paris, London, the rest,

all called us and we answered,

driving, walking, snapping,

truly blessed.

Now, I can’t imagine travel,

it’s harder to see,

and there’s a lot more than an ocean

between other countries and me.

I understand my father now,

after they

opened him up,

closed him up,

why he said no

to a trip to the Old Country.

He knew.