It starts as a tingle where thigh meets groin,
climbs red and pulsing until it reaches my belly,
and is quickly subsumed in waves of nausea.
I fight it,
walking across St. John's, Brooklyn, the Golden Gate.
Heart pounding on the Empire state's observation deck,
conversing with snails on the bell tower of Sagrada Familia,
climbing eight hundred ninety-eight steps to the
top of the Washington Monument.
Why, just today, I scuttled after two grandsons
up and down five decks of the USS Kidd.
