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A Foreign Affair

When traveling abroad in the continental style,
It’s my belief that one must attempt to be discreet.
And subsequently bear in mind your transient position
Allows you a perspective that’s unique.
Though you’ll find your itinerary’s a blessing and a curse,
Your wanderlust won’t let you settle down.
And you wonder how you ever fathomed that you’d be content
To stay within the city limits of a small midwestern town.
Most vagabonds I knowed don’t ever want to find the culprit
That remains the object of their long relentless quest.
The obsession’s in the chasing and not the apprehending,
The pursuit, you see, and never the arrest.

Without fear of contradiction, bon voyage is always hollered
In conjunction with a handkerchief from shore,
By a girl that drives a Rambler and furthermore
Is overly concerned that she won’t see him anymore.
Planes and trains and boats and buses
Characteristically evoke a common attitude of blue.
Unless you have a suitcase and a ticket and a passport
And the cargo that they’re carrying is you.
A foreign affair, juxtaposed with a stateside
And domestically approved romantic fancy,
Is mysteriously attractive due to circumstances knowing
It will only be parlayed into a memory.

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