Travelling

It's like...dingy.

A little senseless, a little crazy.

But then again, that's everything.

I went along the side-walk today.

Past the train-tracks, past the high-way, past the filming lots, past the grey-hound station, and past numerous gas stations.

I passed the baseball field where they used to film scenes from RFR. I passed the bleachers, behind Micky's. I passed Degrassi st. I passed my world by, and kept going.

I want to sit on the train tracks and see how long it takes a train to get there.

I want to drive along the high-way road-trip style, without turning back; everything important to me in bags and suit-cases, set around me. I'm gone.

I want to be filming in those film lots, getting the necessary shots for that last scene in the movie. All for a character that I am conveniently not.

I want to haul my bag over my shoulders, dragging a suitcase behind me, too, and get on the grey-hound, going nowhere. Yes, running away, but that's starting something new, too. I want to get on those greyhound buses the most and go to New York, or Boston, or England, or anywhere...

I'd sit on those bleachers and watch the ghost-players play ball.

Everywhere.

I want to go everywhere, explore.

I want to live.

But I'm tied down.