by John Thiel

I sailed and landed in Port de Nigeurs
Along the fell coast of Marachi,
A journeyman knowing full well what I sought—My manner was bold but recherché.

I eased through the port paying folk scant regard
Not yet being well into the country.
A bicycle bought with some funds I’d procured
Took me well off the coastal promontory.

And a rollicking scene did I find when I came
To the place that well suited me best.
There was everything happening, doing so at once
And they kept in good time, I’ll attest.

Seven labors did Hercules, mine was the eighth—
It was making my way through the crowd.
And I came to a citadel—silent the throngs
As if there was no talking aloud.

And a vagabond man appeared at the door
Saying “The place that you’ve come to is right—For I see you have made the most of the day;
Here refuge is yours for the night.”