Vancouver to London

Our Summer 2022 European travelogue--in verse. Huh?

Smooth and easy now
Like jelly through a straw
Breakfast in our craw
I’ll tell you what we saw
As we oozed ourselves
Over the border
To the grand land o' Canada
And a parking spot
At the airport lot
To leave our truck alone
As a lonely stone
For a five-week scoot to Europe 

In the Skytrain we squeeze
Then it’s your documents please
Hand 'em over, man
So they scan and rescan
Under the light
To get it right
Till our jet plane rockets
Into the night
I snooze and awake
Out the window a lake 
Somewhere over Greenland
An ominous blue
Could it be a clue?
The color of melting glaciers?

Then just like that
We're above the clouds
Now below the clouds 
But wait!
We're over the green mosaic
Of Ireland
And the Isle of Great Britain
The place we been gettin’
Where the long flight ends
With a thump 
London!

A train awaits
We push on south
Through the city gate
We make our escape
To the old, ornate
Yet bright and alive
Where the people thrive
With Britishness 
We walk the streets
With impatient feet
Cuz wherever we are
Go wrong-way cars
And double-decker busses
With selfies and views
We march on through
To South Kensington

All checked in
It’s off to the Thames
To watch it ooze on by
With ripples and riffles
And nobody sniffles
As ships and ferries
And floating homes
Resist the temptation
To ride along
As a snail resists the rain
Or like the buried names
At Westminster
After a longish walk
Among walkable blocks
To a snakey tube
That's underground
And easily found
Down with a flap
We mind the gap!
And ooze our way back home

Morning breaks with a subtlety
Of distant slamming dumpsters
(If they even call them that)
And of little trucks
With squealy brakes
No time it takes
And scooters motoring
Around sharp corners
With Little Jack Horner
And breakfast cargoes
In warming bins
Securely attached 
To their rear ends
Steps away we find
A temptress of a bakery
It ain't no fakery
Disguised as a coffee joint
A cappuccino, an Americano
Guzzled slow
To wash down the croissants

We punch our code
To release the bikes
From whence they're stowed
And ride merrily on
Through Hyde Park we roll
Past the Royal Albert Hall
Then bikeless on we go
On foot some mo'
To Buckingham Palace
I forgot my chalice
To sip with the Bard
But we catch by accident
A Changing of the Guard
We spoke not a word
Yet the queen demurred
As we waited in vain
For our post-Jubilee welcome

A few blocks away
In the midst o' the day
Westminister Abbey 
Showed us her bones
And the name Wilcock
A name I should know
Is etched in the floor
Immediately below
The Coronation Chair
With much grace and care
Where indeed I did read
That the queen did sit
Seven decades ago
Can you believe it
And many before her we know
And who is this Anne Wilcock anyway?
We entered the room
Fortelling the doom?
Of a couple of Henrys
Settling a score or two?

Then into the sunshine
A glance at Big Ben
Shining brightly on high
At Mr. Churchill close by
Then it’s on to a sea
Of wildflowers
A super bloom
At London Tower
Then a wisp of a walk
To the Tower Bridge
And along the cobblestone
To Trafalgar
And Soho to Piccadilly
With fish and chips for supper
How could we not?
What an affable British Pub!

St. James Park at dusk
But return we must
To the tube again
Pointing us home
Like jelly in a straw
With joy in our craw
And a good night's sleep
On Fulham Road
Where in eight hours hence
We'd up ourselves early
For the next inspiring
Leg of our journey

Next stop: Milan, Italy