On My Feet

on my feet

On my feet I feel the care taken for us,
Keen honed and aching up my legs.
Everywhere I look I can see the effort expended.
All those streams of finance guided to just the right places.

Like in all worthwhile parties, the best of us stand in the buffet carriage.
Wildean in wit and satisfaction,
We all bless the bureaucrat who worked to bring us here.
Keeping us from the sterile, lifeless luxury of a seat.

For who longs to travel as in days gone by.
So much smug indulgence whirling through bolts of wild nature.
We curse their antiquated relaxation.
Shun their dusty sensibilities.

In these uncertain times,
With former preconceptions shredded by corpulent hands
We must wear a new sense of the world.
Forgo former concerns of certainty

Or comfort,
Or value for money,
Or lack of contempt for transport providers.

more by THOMAS W. EVANS

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