Far To Go

Kidnapped and blindfolded, I’m dumped in an unknown part of town.
Sitting on the asphalt, I remember it’s Christmas Eve and regret not starting shopping yet.
I’m barefoot and naked, have not a cent nor a phone.
Imagine eating 77 hotdogs in 10 minutes as the starter yells Go.
Limping from lamp post to lamp post, I find no fig tree.
I’ve put off writing a 25-page research paper until the night before.
The road’s all broken glass for what turns out to be a good ten miles home.
Everyone in my family lives to 90 or more.
I wake up screaming to an Alexa alarm.
It’s my first day of work, and they raise the retirement age.

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