Lebanon

I could go to Lebanon.

I know just how I'd get there, too.

Just take the boat from Piraeus
to Haifa, head north, act non-chalant.
Stuff pitas full of peppers
and tomatoes and hummus,
always knowing that soon I'd cross the line,
walk across the border
to hell.

I could decide tomorrow, start saving.
I wouldn't need much.
I've learned the trick of cheap living
and the waiting game
of thumbs up travel.
Two months in a dishwasher
I could be in New York,
Amsterdam,
setting up a ride south.

Springtime in Switzerland would be nice.
Visit some friends, maybe
get some work. And south.

I could be there in three months.
Hell, a week.
I could hit the First National and fly
to Beirut,
Lebanon.



From The Original Sky of Guesses, Ashland, 1989