World Traveler

Cut-rate travel.
Smart-ass engineers.
Pasty-faced and mirthless
maitre’d and concierge.
No reservations required
to land. Wizardry will
suffice, so go
to sleep.

By air, water, on foot,
the globe turns one way.
Who goes before 
wonder, tragedy . . .
Magellan navigating
around the world,
Cook falling to heathens
on the islands.

Cortes burns his ships.
Coronado’s horse
lays him out, leaves him lame.
They love to see the blood
of heathens run.
They enslave their women.
Who loves himself
is never alone.

When do we arrive?
Where is the path to follow?
How will we know the trail
leading back to sunrise
after the dawn
of the mind’s
scuttle and fall
to the home of the dead . . .

(16 April 2013)

copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander