Another set of travel poems from 2008.
Plus the last one that came to me from nowhere and something insisted I write it down. Not my family.
Kit Kat Kapers. A club with a dress code. Minimal or no clothing required. Sexy dance club.
Reflections. Comes a time when travelling, that we look at where we’ve been and what we’ve done.
Without a phone. I’d been travelling in Europe for about four months, then as autumn settled in I headed home via Canada, to visit relatives and spend some time making sense of the last four months. Without having to speak another language. No phone, but a heavy laptop for messaging.
Random travel jottings. More introspective attempts to capture my recent experiences.
Counting down in Vancouver. Tired of travelling, wearied by attempting to communicate in German, Spanish, French. Ready to go home.
Death in the family. Saw something, heard something, thought something? Don’t know how or why, but these words spilled out.
hugh wade 
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