Whilst taking the train North we crossed a motorway
and saw a campervan emerge from beneath us,
and not just that, but one with
bicycles on the back.
It burns now, the call of the road,
the white lines in the middle being headless arrows
that beckon us forward.
Maybe later, once bicycle days are over, we should get a van
and follow those intermittent lines,
because you can’t live in a tent forever.
A bicycle is beautiful,
the only object worthy of being worshiped.
A lifestyle, rather than a vehicle.
But a van, now that’s a verified abode, of sorts.
We’d roll from here to there,
then from there to over there
(allí, en español),
and when we get tired of over there we could wander beyond yonder,
We are the great perhaps.
I could write and Lady Sunshine could photograph,
two small people
living their little lives,
and recording it for those who care
as we roll around
silly and free.
I suppose we are champions, of sorts.
Often it is necessary to see someone do that
which we have always longed to,
to show us that it is possible.
It is easily forgotten that everything that has been accomplished has been done so by
lowly humans, blood and bones
and little else.
Then one day
the need for sounds of a small-person voice
to accompany the music of the wheels and stars
would become too great to deny.
Fill the giant silence.
Then we could park up
on a portion of land fertile enough
to bear Eden,
and tell our families we’d found it.
They’d come, sure enough,
if they heard we’d
found God’s own back yard.
Build some houses,
grow some food,
adopt some animals,
a Noah-type variety.
And rabbits, because rabbits are lovely, and the rabbits of the past
would want the rabbits of the future to be happy.
Make a tree-house,
watch the sun come up and down,
to make sure it’s doing it right each day.
Then park a boat out on the drive,
take it out when the Wanderlust bites.
Be happy, wander, grow older, repeat.
Our bones would creak after a time,
but if we’d done it right, we wouldn’t mind.
But anyway, though that all sounds lovely, and if it goes like that I’ll be a pleased fellow, but
here’s a new plan, of sorts.
It is to let it all be,
to put ourselves at the mercy of the great winds,
to have no egos, nor false purposes.
To simply unmoor ourselves
from this reality
and let the road and the sea take us
wherever they choose.
First there were bicycles; more than that we cannot tell.