Poems by Alan Balter

Travel Sickness


A voyage abroad with my good wife Maude turned into a real mess
In need of some rest in Budapest, about all I got was stress
Then in France I took a chance on some pork a little too rare
I so regret that Monsieur's toilette was very crowded there

We never found out if the rain in Spain falls mainly in the plains
Because in Barcelona and again in Pamplona I had severe head pains
Many a folk strolled through churches baroque, the grandest in the area
Only I felt blue, stretched out on a pew, certain I had malaria

Europe had been tough, really rough; things had gotten out of hand
So we gathered our stuff and headed out in a huff to visit the holy land
Then I tripped on a boulder and bruised my shoulder; alas, we had to leave
'Cause wearing a sling in the early spring is awkward in Tel Aviv

Maude was irked that nothing had worked; still, she said with a smile
"Let's conform and go someplace warm, maybe a tropical isle"
But a ruptured achilles in the Antilles I accomplished with astonishing ease
It laid me low, don't you know, as an intestinal disease in Belize

Clearly time to abort, so we cut our trip short and headed back to Seattle
Never one to complain when he's in pain, I'd fought a courageous battle
Now home at last with our trip in the past, I'm not looking for anything dramatic
Just find me a shrink who doesn't drink and treats problems psychosomatic