Travels With My Heart—Sometimes It Sank
JAMES CHARLES FLYNN
Places in the sun
are sometimes overdone.
And they can come complete
with sadness, not with fun.
Many have said before
that wherever you go you take
your feelings – happy or raw –
Imposter, idiot, fake…
(That stinking feeling).
*
To Greece. Kalimera.
Overland and overseas – in a band-aid aided car –
holding it all together.
It doesn’t seem that far
unless you have to drive it.
Unwanted passengers skive it.
Such a pleasure
to finally ditch them
in Athens’ ancient heart
after a week of sardinery.
Now to hit the ouzo and be hit by
monstrous hangovers and the
aunt of my escaping girlfriend.
Cracks a mug on my head.
*
In and Out of Africa we thrive.
Jambo, Bwana.
Making theatre and playing
especially when it’s paying
more than enough for adventure.
For safaris, for the run
of the Great Rift Valley.
Swim in that native water hole.
Elephant attack,
panicked girlfriends in the back
and
damage to the skull in
connecting with the screen.
Stitches in the dark
by torchlight, in a park –
“hold it steady!”
Call it killjoy, call it
Kilimanjaro.
*
Where’s anger
when you need it?
Let’s not look back but find
ourselves an Oasis.
Folkestone end-of-the-pier
shows will do it –
“beside the seaside, beside the sea”.
Don’t rue it. Mr Porter
will have a go,
put on a show, swimmingly,
for us all.
There’s never enough sun
let alone fun,
on the English coast. It is
not California, sure.
*
Would you go to Hamburg
for a hamburger? Maybe.
Think of the money –
forget it’s not sunny.
Keep out of the vater!
Oh, but you’ll need a beery brew – which they
easily can do.
You can eat Labskaus - seafarers’ stew
coloured a cool pinkish hue
by the addition of beetroot. Eww!
*
We like to go south in the winter,
and wouldn’t you know it,
escaping the snow, it
lands us in this Great
Southern Land.
Leave London in Jan –
I’m not such a fan of
the snow. Why then go
to New York, even colder?
This year I’m being bolder and
taking a Round The World trip.
Winter outfits for freezing and
Skimpy costume for swimming.
No.
Not that I’m happy much
being out in the sea.
But the heat I do like and
I will never
forget Perth.
The smell of the eucalypts.
That rush of hot air as I
stepped from the plane.
Insane, but a place
I can have space
to be me.
*
Never going back.
JAMES CHARLES FLYNN
James is an Englishman of Irish heritage. He has written short stories and poetry most of his life without being published so far. Except in the senior school magazine MANY years ago. He loves to travel and adventure, hence his move to Australia in 2011. This land brims with inspiration.
