Internal Migration Being Tour

A poem by Alan Dugan

As an American traveler I have

to remember not to get actionably mad

about the way things are around here.

Tomorrow I’ll be a thousand miles away

from the way it is around here. I will

keep my temper, I will not kill the dog

next door, nor will I kill the next-door wife,

both of whom are crazy and aggressive

and think they live at the center of culture

like everyone else in this college town.

This is because I’m leaving, I’m taking off

by car, by light plane, by jet, by taxicab,

for some place else a thousand miles away,

so I caution myself: control your rage,

even if it causes a slight heart attack.

Stay out of jail tonight before you leave,

and don’t get obstreperous in transit tomorrow

so as to stay out of jail on arrival tomorrow night.

Think: the new handcuffs are sharp inside

and meant to cut the wrists. You’re not too old

to be raped in their filthy overcrowded jails

and you’ll lose your glasses and false teeth.

How would you eat, study and be

a traveling lecturer if you got out alive and sane?

So remember to leave this place peacefully,

it’s only Asshole State University at Nowheresville,

and remember to get to the next place peacefully,

it’s only Nowhere State University at Assholesville

and you must travel from place to place for food and shelter.