The Amateur Traveler

September 24, 2010
He flies up, up high,
looks at the world from the skies,
in his toy airplane.

He goes deep, deep, deep,
into the sea of weep,
in his yellow submarine.

He rides far, far, far,
in a limousine or car,
gazing at the sheep.

He runs, runs, runs,
with the predator or prey,
under the hot sun.

He walks, walks, walks,
in the dirty New York streets,
under the night sky.

No matter where he is,
he will find an adventure,
in hot air balloons or baskets,
trains or airplanes,
jets or garbage trucks,
and will find something in nothing.

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