Category: Travelogue

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Fabled Streets, California & Powell, San Francisco, California, United States of America

The Streets of San Francisco

Fabled Streets
Of San Francisco
Car chases
And cable cars

In nineteen hundred and ninety six
I take my 5th wheel down Powell
Forty-five feet of feelin’ cooler than
McQueen, Cage and Connery

Past the bottom
The truck’s brakes fail
So I drive the city streets
Using the trailer’s brakes

Impressing a parallel trucker
“You’re one of us,” he tells me
Eat your hearts out
Movie stars

Dust Storm

Sometimes
Life moves at a pace
I cannot keep

Or rather
Life moves
I simply do not

And in my disastrous stillness
The dust storm rolls in
Without hesitation 

To Roll
Over
Me

Move or don’t move
Retreat or don’t retreat
Seek cover or…

Let
The dust
Take me

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Monkey & Red Fort Sunrise, Hotel Tara Place, Chandni Chowk, New Delhi, India

Penultimate Sunrise in the Big Smoke

It was the last full day in India. The smoke had been chokingly thick for the entire month I’d spent in the north, and Delhi hadn’t even been the worst of it. Still, I’d found a decent rate at a decent hotel (some small comfort in exchange for the respiratory distress) on the edge of Old Delhi’s fantastical Chandni Chowk markets for the final days before my flight home.¬†¬†

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That's a lotta Washingtons! Sourdough Bar & Grill, Beatty, Nevada, United States of America

The Bar & Grill of Passing Thru

It was one of those American small-town off-the-main-attraction tourist bar & grills papered with dollar bills, George Washington in all his unemotional placidity staring back at me from walls, pillar and ceiling. Off-season empty but for a pair of locals playing darts and a couple passing through on the way to somewhere relatives and presents waited for them. It was hard to tell whether the twinkle lights were seasonal or permanent, but there was no other sign of the holiday. So, permanent.

The place was stocked with beer, though. Lots of it. Their inventory must have been pretty mobile. The bartender just pointed a thumb over his shoulder when I asked for a beer list.

“We’ve got everything in those shelves.”

I counted five rows of 20 cubbyholes each, and every one had a different beer or cider. Maybe one was empty, just for the cliche.

“Impressive.”

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Storm Season, Cygnet Cove, Ucluelet, British Columbia, Canada

Storm Season

I’ve got some time off. A lot of time, actually. I’ll spend most of it working on some projects and skiing. But today I drove and ferried out to Vancouver Island’s west coast, where it’s storm season. Big weather and big waves crashing down on rocky shores and wide sandy beaches that go on as far as the eyes can see through all that sea mist. Been out this way a few times before, but never while the Pacific was particularly angry. So, knocking something off the bucket list.

It was dismal grey and a little rainy when I left home, bound for the ferry terminal. A promising start.