Move On
one trip we see something odd that stays with us,
that warrants further investigation
but we are thwarted by our schedule's lust for our time
it's unearthed in moments that should be leisure
as we scour new planets that have no secrets
while that -- what was it exactly? --
drifts in and out of the mind
we gather and ask ourselves,
"shouldn't we have stayed an hour more one place,
an hour less on some other world"
but we're ruled by someone else's agenda
in our job,
imagination's like a dog --
its urge to sniff is overpowered
by this need to heel
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