Bacchus (A Poem)

A Poem

Paris, Barcelona, and Rio de Janeiro.

Bacchus named them,

Excitable, yet plain,

As only he can infer.

Travel the world someday, he says.

His “good job!”

His way of teaching that work

should always come with rewards.

Gone before I write back.

Gone before I say, “Work is my travel.”

I am lying, so he will tell me I am right.

Bacchus shares with me his photos,

Paris, Barcelona, and Rio de Janeiro.

Wine, food, and women.

The world is his,

“The world is yours,” he says.

See it; be it.

Be, and the world loves you.

He brings his tales,

We talk Paris.

He brings young wives,

We talk Rio.

He brings Johnny Depp,

We talk Tortuga- not Barcelona.

Did he see Barcelona?

I don’t know.

He loved the world’s corners

Revered them as Gods

were revered by Greeks,

He feasts in their honor.

He prays in their temples.

He mocks religion with a smile.

The world loves him.

Go forth, Bacchus says.

A silent goodbye,

I do not see in the night light.

He wishes goodwill and travel.

Paris, Barcelona, and Rio de Janeiro.

Go forth.

The world is yours.

The world loves you.

The world for Bacchus.