Ben Newell

Geographical Cure

His native South 
was too sticky, too biblical
so he packed up his shit
and boogied on out to the West Coast
but it was too expensive, too nutty, too fruity
so he headed up to the Pacific Northwest
where it was too gloomy, too wet;
he dipped down to the desert,
found it too hot, too dry; 
he tried the Midwest (too flat, too bland)
and New England (too cold, too snowy)
then motored to the Mid-Atlantic,
a doomed last ditch effort as his arrival coincided 
with that of a category 4 hurricane—
Far from defeated,
he returned home a new man, 
a man with a mission,
a man with resolve 
and wisdom earned through years of travel;
a housekeeper found him in bed,
his brains smeared across the motel wall,
a dog-eared copy of On the Road 
in the trash.  

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