TOURIST CLASS

	       
I was a tourist in San francisco,
	as I wondered aimless to a million destinations
		stocking up Karma for the trip
	and smoking heavily in aspiration
		and gazing wildly in appreciation
	and listening avidly as the hemp-woven-bong-seller
		of the Haight explains how
	they're gonna make it legal in this state, man
		pret-ty fu-ckin' soo-n
	And on that day how 
			The party will be biblical.

I was a tourist in Yellowstone,
	but that didn't matter 'cause the only locals
		were bears
	and they fretted away nothing except distance
		and everything was real
			ontological.

I was a tourist in the rightful country of the Sioux
	and despite the fact that their warriors rode
		in the face of the descendant in Burger King
	and that their roadside jewelry succeeded
		in dessecrating the Oil economy shrine that
	cut an incision of dependence
		across the only country that existed
	and that their beauty shone more
		neon than the fifties
	and that their eyes were latent on my soul
		like conscience intransient, still
			They couldn't make me drop my
			Panasonic Zoom-Lens Compact to 
			Actually see the place 
			Without the context of aesthetics.

I was a tourist in the Shopping Channel.

I was a tourist in the faceless East-Coast suburbs
	and I remember there were beds and tables
		and food and a restaurant and a basesball game
	and members of the family and I remember how
		we bonded and shit
			and all these things were good.

I was a tourist in Adolescance
	and I saw all the sights and I felt confused
		and I sought my independence, established
	my independence, enjoyed my independence,
		had distopianism and insecurity but then I always
	knew I would, like, I'm lucky really to have all the
			books and programmes
			and videos and talks and leaflets
			and facts and facts and facts
	readily available 'cause without them, well,
			I wouldn't have known what to think.

I was a tourist in Love 
	but discovered that, for me,
		the sunset widescreen resolution is 
	scripted later on when I meet
		the right girl and then I'll just know
			like that.

I was a tourist in philosophy
	stipulating the death of modern thought
		to get recognised as poetic on the streets of elation
	and constructing deconstructionist ideas
		to be fed on a diet of lament and somehow managing
			to scream silently for two years

I was a tourist in Olympus
	where the gods reminded me of 
		the village people so I decided to
			like them ironically

I was a tourist in conversation
	storming the siege mentality I imagined of
		Other People while hating the probing
			Of myself.

I was a tourist in despair
	banging my head against the fucking wall
		and I meant it too, it was the despair of science
	banging my head against the wall
		and waiting for the light
			to get eternal

But that was then, sugar, this is now
Now I'm lookin' to the future,
Now I'm planning my itinerary afresh

Next year, I'm planning a trip to life
	my final destination is career, near family,
		though I'm planning stopovers at
	mid-life crisis and affair.
		On the way back, I shall take a detour via
			retirement and obsoletion
				before catching the last available flight
					to death.
			Winter, 1997