Thoughts in the quest for patience–a poem

Image result for photo of a solo traveler

Someone, in some unknown past,
said “He who travels alone, travels fast,”
and Mr. Springsteen heard this,
and he used it in a song on that
1987 album that we supported by
buying tickets and making the drive
to Lexington to see the show in
Adolph’s Gym–me with some crazy
Thai chick, Steve with a group of
friends that included Kari,
whose favorite song from the album was
that one about Valentine’s Day,
in which Bruce used that quote,
which I never noticed then.
And then the Valentines cracked, and Bruce
got divorced, and the Thai chick had
to go, and Kari died, and Steve developed
scoliosis and had to quit running, and
I drank too much and my mouth wouldn’t
quit running–and life passed—and life passed—and life passed
until today, when I sat down and heard Bruce sing
those words, really hearing them
for the first time I guess,
and I understood what they meant, and
I tried to apply them to these travels
I’m planning, only to remember who we
were then, as we made that trip
to Lexington, and all that has happened since
to make us who we are now.
I realized that, no matter how it turns
out–life, the passage of time–you never
could have pictured it that way, so I
thought it would be nice if the
treks I’m planning somehow apply
this quote, but I didn’t try to foresee
or figure out how they would, because
I knew I couldn’t, so I just
sat back with the pen and the pad,
and I waited–somewhat patiently.


This was written in 2000, and while it isn’t a perfect piece, there’s enough good in the message to share it. Hope you’re well, my friends.

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