When travel gets tough,
and the trip becomes tricky,
and I need to be all that I am.
I look for a place
to pull in to replenish,
or my name's not Peter Stamm.
I drink my last drop,
and I curse the surroundings;
not a creek, nor a spring, nor a dam.
I crack a wry smile,
as my mouth becomes sticky,
I'm down to my last can of benign spam ...
spam,spam,spam,spam ...