Poetry from J.K. Durick

Full Tourist

I’ve been a tourist all my life –

Always passing through

Touring from here to there

Always trying to recall where

I am today and on to tomorrow.

I’ve been looking for a guide

To direct me in a language I know

(English spoken slowly, a little

Frence and of course

My high school Latin) spoken

Clearly and loud enough.

I’m a  tourist taking selfies and

Buying post cards and souvenirs

To remind me where I’ve been

And all the things I’ve probably seen.

I’ve learned to live in and out

Of a suitcase, rummaging about

Through underwear and socks

Enough of both I’m always hoping

But never sure – just ask me.

I’m always a tourist planning my next

Excursion, out and back, next and

After that, every day, all day, smiling at

And wondering about all these locals

Natives of the place.

       Packing Up

I picture you packing

A backpack, a carry-on

And you didn’t mention

Anything else, so my

Picturing will be limited.

A few weeks in Europe

Touring, sightseeing, and

dressed to the nines, as

I expect you will be, will

Need careful selecting

Folding and matching

One thing with another.

Walking through the Roman

Forum, sipping the right

Wine in a Parisian café

Standing in line for just

About anything this time

Of year, hottest it’s been

In Europe in recorded time.

Your backpack and carry-on

Left in that bed and breakfast

Your kids picked and there

You are – I can picture it –

Dressed for whatever comes

Your way.

           Time Travel

We time travel, but not like Wells

In a machine going back or

Ahead, blurring centuries as

We find out what went on or

What will happen. No, the kind

We do, requires that we just

Sit back, stand back and let

It happen. It’s inevitable, so it

Needs no outside assistance.

We’re travel through time, going

Forward on the clock and on

The calendar, sometimes plunging

Ahead, sometimes tick-tocking

Onward, but always moving on

Shedding yesterday, disposing of

Last week, last year, and what it

All meant. We do carry ourselves

So things accumulate on us, in us

Follow us, become part of us. We

Never get to go back to relive and

Or improve on what happened in

Our past. We travel forward, but we

Don’t know when it all will end, don’t

Know when our clock unwinds or

When that last alarm goes off and

We can’t get up and start again.

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