(I went to NYC in the middle of December, a week before finals. You can sense my grief of returning)

January 12th, 2007

I carried my subway ticket
In the pocket of my canvas purse.
My limits indestructible.
The filthy entry and exit
Was unimportant,
What with the
Schmorgazbord of performers.

I now carry my UTA bus pass
In the pocket of my canvas purse.
Provo has performers of its own.

Did I trade down?
The chained tourist in me yells YES.
But the life flourishing
In me will take both along
For the ride.