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January 27, 2009

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      A straight line
isn't necessarily
the shortest distance
between two points.
Everyone knows this.
It might even be true.

The old joke goes:
how long a minute is
depends on which side
of the bathroom door
                      you're on.

It's the wanting to be
on the other side
that slows down time.

Likewise, focusing
on the destination
makes any trip tedious.

For instance, lately
riding to and from work
has felt like a chore.

I'd been fixed
on getting from A to B,
forgetting there might
be a whole alphabet
                     in between.

Tonight I wandered,
intending one thing
then doing another
but it didn't matter.

Crossing I-5 at 45th St
I stopped and dismounted
to look at the lights
of the traffic below me.
I admit they were pretty.

I was happy just then.
Not just for the obvious
reason of being above
the deadening routine
of alternating between
gas and brake pedals--
I was feeling neither
            scorn nor pity--






but because I'd stopped
trying to get somewhere
           and found myself
enjoying the place
           I happened to be.