Distances traveled are distances gained.
So I have been in sixteen states. Perhaps
seventeen. Around a third of the way.
Some landed in in planes, or driven through.
A mere in the way distance. In transit.
On the way. And some probed intimately from
side to side. Which brings the number that's known,
well, down to perhaps three. Or four. OK
for under a third of an average life,
or lifespan, because each lifespan, from three
months to one hundred and three--or four--years
is just someones lifetime--no more/ no less.
And I have known, or at any rate, met
perhaps a thousand people, although I've
seen, I think, a million unique faces
like a snowy day--if snowflake trackers
are to be trusted. And I have cared for
and considered as friends, maybe fifty.
But people with whom I have known; whose lives
I have listened to and ached for and tried
to understand? And realized were, yes,
as often sad, and sometimes glorious
as mine? Perhaps ten. And while that would seem
rather shoddy for just under a third
of an average lifetime. I am forced
to consider, whether distance traveled
is not ever, nearly so important
as vistas at which you come to stop.