Wallingford Steps

Riding home after two a.m.
Through a fog of light pollution
Which reveals a brightly colored sign
That says: “Wallingford Steps”,
I imagine it to be “Walligford Steppes”
And, for a moment, smile
At the thought of an exotic landscape,
Here transposed.
What need have I for wanderlust
And faraway places, when
All the distance and foreignness
I could ever want
Lives in the place I’m riding home from,
And the place I’m riding home to?

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