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by Norman
Rated: E · Poetry · Travel · #2286345
I may as well be on the moon.
I walked along the dusty road.
The sun was beating down.
The pavement stopped some time ago,
two miles out of town.

This far away from anything,
there wasn’t much to see.
Just scraggly shrubs grew here and there,
and now and then a tree.

I may as well be on the moon,
was what was on my mind.
I had some other random thoughts,
not one of them was kind.

By now you wonder where I was,
and why I would be there.
And that is what I wondered too,
as I began to swear.

I had a gas can in my hand
as I walked to my car.
That can was getting heavier
now that I’d walked so far.

This was the worst place to break down
since there was nothing here.
The only thing that kept me sane
was dreaming of a beer.

A nice cold beer with foam on top,
together with some fries.
Instead I just kept trudging on
and wiped sweat from my eyes.

I’d listened to my GPS
and that was my mistake.
Now here I was left high and dry
out in the sun to bake.

So take my kind and sage advice.
Don’t fall into that trap.
Don’t trust that stupid GPS.
Just learn to read a map.

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