The Adventures of Suburban Joe
It’s been ten years and three months since we moved to this street.
The neighbors are friendly. It’s quiet and neat.
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The bus and the mail come right to our door.
We’ve updated the paint and we’ve reclaimed the floor.
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But, as I sort the recycling and rake up the lawn,
I start to wonder where Adventure has gone.
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He left on a Tuesday without looking back.
On his face was a grin, on his shoulders, a sack.
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He asked me to join him as he turned away
and I gave it some thought but had work the next day.
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He may be in Canada learning moose calls,
or clinking a stein in Germanic beer halls.
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Have you heard of the pirate of Old Havershim?
They say it’s a myth but I’m sure it was him.
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And the unexplained lights people see in the sky?
Well, he always talked about learning to fly.
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And deep sea diving and French pastry making,
but seldom of taxes and never of raking.
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Once we were consorts, Adventure and I,
but I put him aside for a predictable life.
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I thought he would sit still and be waiting for me,
when things slowed down and I was ready for He.
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But Adventure rolls on like a babbling brook
and flows past the distracted, too busy to look.
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To rediscover the places he hides,
you must leave the suburbs and venture Outside.
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You have to be willing to let go and float.
So today I went out and I bought a houseboat.
Poem Type: Rhyming Couplet