Pursuit of India

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We're chasing you, Sun,
Towards our Western touchdown.
But my goal is tailward,
Away from you, Sun.
My loved ones are there,
In the land of Maharajahs;
Himalaya, the abode of snow;
Mother Ganga and the Taj Mahal;
Following the sun;
Up tight, at 35,000 feet.
Some would say it's groovy.
Vaulting the Aegean and the Appennines;
A look at Fiumicino and Orly;
Reconnaisancing the Atlantic;
Ice floes and the gray and white
World of Labrador,
With its solid river;
Its eerie manless moonscape.
Don't flash your silver-gold smile
Off those jet pods, Sun.
That won't make a new friend,
Or liven stony lips and dreaming eyes.
I know I won't catch you, Sun;
Wish I could continue the race
Beyond duty to comfort and love.
Goodbye, Sun!
Hello Boston and all you customs agents!
What's the excise, please,
On a heavy heart?