5 things real backpackers do, says a buzzed feed

one. read the subway ads. for the culture, bob. it’s what you don’t have

at home just don’t come

home

two. watch the buskers. karen, bud,

buskers are not beggars. buskers beg me 

backward to basketball

band

and 

bawling the tears of an aristocrat

when the net does not swish

before the buzzer

like your bamboo

reed before it

cracks 

your heart open when you think

of home

three. stevie, dear, don’t eat the michelin

s**t. tires don’t taste

pretty.

and it comes 

from home

so why (where who what when) in the

world

did you ever

leave home

four. andrew! do muay thai in thailand

and horse racing in hong kong

and FLINCH

as the loud noises

demand you come home

and watch your friends get shot 

running hallway instead of

running halfway across the 

world where the sound

isn’t real.

home cries and writhes and begs. 

squeeze your eyes

to hide from 

the sound but it’s not the same

where is 

a free land and brave

home 

five. go to hostels and

surround yourself with

white backpackers like bob and karen

and stevie.

maybe they’ll scare you with

pew pew

after a few beers. jokes!

beers you can’t drink at home

at bars

because 

at home

we are legal to pew 

but not to chug or pong.

go back

home, says my

buzzed feed.