I can't wait to travel and finally shop,
In souvenir stores and in every truck stop,
For trinkets and mugs, and the obvious caps,
Along with CD's or some t-shirts perhaps.
These gifts are so tacky, distasteful or rude,
That those who receive them must surely conclude,
With each gaudy item from distant locales,
Amusement and fun were our main rationales.
For what kind of person can keep down a smile
When looking at garish salt shakers' crude style,
Especially ceramic bikini clad chicks
Whose shakers detach, as their flaunting predicts?
Or brassy key chains with their mottos of life
Whose flashlight includes a small fish-cleaning knife,
We mustn't forget flashy shot glass arrays,
Most likely acquired in our motorhome phase.
I peer at a bobble-hipped hula girl doll,
It's sure not Picasso, Monet or Chagall,
But heirlooms are more than exquisite décor,
Recalling locations we came to explore.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many accompanied by his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.