Wanderlust

He read a poem where the author
wants to live in a little shack
with one door. The poet will sit
in the door frame for years. He
thinks about that and concludes
that wanderlust wouldn’t take him
to a one door shack. It would take
him to where he is right now writ-
ing this. Sometime though, he
might like to go on a European
river cruise, especially if it is
as nice as it looks in the T.V.
ads. Then again, there are National
Parks which beckon. He used to like
watching the Travel Channel to get
his vicarious fix, but there is more
eating and drinking going on than
traveling. He misses watching that
cute, perky, blond, travel guide
whose name he can’t recall. She got
around. He moves around on the chair
and thinks to himself that this is a
pretty comfortable vehicle in which
to travel. This way, it is easier to
travel with the Chocolate Lab who
sits next to him contentedly chewing
a bone. In a minute the man’s wife
will ascend the stairs and ask him,
“Are you ready to go camping?” The
dog’s ears will perk up and his tail
will wag. The man will say, “Have a
cup of coffee first, dear.”

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