such ordeals, they're
hardly worth the trip;
let's face it: one bad meal,
and Edens turn
to nightmares,
and wanderlust
dies hard when it's
mired in logistics.
And yet, somehow,
the most excruciating
trip I've ever taken
was the time I tried
to stay in the
exact same position,
forcing that old
groove down
as deep as I possibly could
while the rest
of the world,
despite my objections,
rudely
continued to move.
