Thank God They Take Credit Card Here Poem by Colin Coplin

Empty pockets on a foreign land, good time to be bagged
For the price of a dollar, maybe a ten
Thank God, they take credit card here

I look at reflections, in the galleries and museums
Of tomorrows now long since past
I sleep in the hostels, pensions and railroads,
Feeling as fragile as glass
I travel the subways, footpaths, from country to country,
I'm a tourist second class
My eyes and my ears, like windows, are opened
To let in fresh new air
My mind snapped it's reins
Planes, buses, trains
Thank God, they take credit card here

Yeah, I live well, I'm not naive
Priceless times, need to be repaid
I got a whole world that's calling for me
So many places I want to see
So many things I got to do
Before I come home to you
Thank God, they take credit card here


Copyright Colin Coplin 2012 (updated 2023)