To Family Members Fleeing the City’s Summer

 
To Family Members Fleeing the City’s Summer

In summertime, we sweat a lot
And wonder, should we leave or not
The city, with its heated air,
Or stay, as if we didn't care.

And some depart, in buses, trains
And those with means in speeding 'planes
And others in their private cars,
While I remain.  It's in my stars.

So go, and let the gods give wings
To those like you.  The distance sings.
It calls—and you respond and go.
But some of us are always slow.

We flow like treacle and molasses.
We sit and slowly grow our asses
If we're women, or our bellies
If we're men—and watch our tellies.

But wait!  I'm sorry, I forget
That now it is the Internet.
I sit and type—and on my screen
Appear those images serene.

So you may hurry hence, while I
Am asking, whither, wherefore, why.
For using only keystrokes, see—
I'm down by the Aegean Sea.

And if I tire of boobs and muscle,
I then can very swiftly hustle
And lo!  I'm high up in the Andes
Or praying by the river Ganges.

So go, and have your bit of fun.
I know from what you need to run.
But I shall stay within this sauna,
Melding with the city’s fauna.

Perhaps I’ll wander to the shore,
As I have done in years before
And slowly walk by Gravesend Bay,
While all of you are far away.

And who of us has rested less
And had perhaps the greater stress,
We’ll see, when we are reunited
And all we’ve done is then recited.

And yes, I’m sure my own account
Might then be deemed as not to count.
So I, with yours, will be content.
Contentment is my main intent.

So whether on Virginia’s beaches
Or deep in DC’s inner reaches,
If you ever think of me,
Know, from wanderlust, I’m free.

I’ve climbed upon the Himalayas,
And whiskered tigers in their lairs.
I’ve done this, while within this city,
Which might or might not be a pity.

2015 July 9th, Thu, 12:49 am
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York