Being Used To Travel

being used to travel
one gets used to being dissipated

another arrival
another departure

in such a short time
with such a moment with someone

another someone
another temporary feeling

not even love
not even another feeling anymore

another travel
asking: where am i going to?

being used to
being used
to dreams that never come true

now on another train
to another bus
on another plane

each question begs for an answer
but for now

there is just this blankness
this bluntness

no conversations with another
passenger
just like myself
asking: where am i going to?

now, i don't ask anymore.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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