I learned what the word “arrondissement” meant
And found Nice to be really quite nice.
Merchants, they fought for the money I spent.
I laughed and enjoyed a Seine boat tour thrice.
In Dublin I drank at the Ay! There’s The Rub,
Stayed a month at a place called Rooms Plenty.
I stumbled a lot between there and the pub
Where I wrote chapters sixteen to twenty.
Muse-driven I wandered through country and clime
No bells, no alarms, not one day.
And reveling thus in unboundaried time
Lust-drenched in Madrid I spent May.
Next, [assuaging myself of such adult thrill]
I fulfilled the pure dream of a child.
And that child was me, for I flew to Brazil
And saw toucans in trees, in the wild.
The rest of year one I travelled and learned,
Losing track of my islands of bliss.
I followed the sun where it warmestly burned
And all in year one, just year one, I did this.
Yes, freedom has come in the wake of the Lotto.
Did I write my damn book? Not nearly!
But my hope is alive in the following motto,
“Repeat the above until dead, and yearly!”
© Ciprianowords Inc. 2006