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Paul Waring

Postcard From A Stationary Tourist


Dear Anyone, greetings from wherever I’ve parked

my eyes. Now any place just a blink away, I can let

Shinjuku cherry blossom sea wash away winter blues,

hover high as a red-tailed hawk over the Himalayas,

gatecrash Hollywood A-Lister parties and zip back

to Berkeley Square in good time for the nightingales.


Stuff brown-nosing the boss for time off, Rubik’s Cube

packing puzzles, trolley cases dragged like whining kids

& booking/check-in/security palaver. I travel waferlight,

jetlagless, leave snow-white footprints. Wish list longer

than a loo roll; first up, a solstice gig at the ’Henge,

backstage, in company of those legendary stones.