There’s a tube stop just outside the
Tower of London
and just a few feet away rests a stand
that sells Piccadilly Whip
in a cake cone with a piece of Flake
stuck in the side.

There’s a little music shop in
Bath where they sell
the Love Never Dies piano book
and you can look out
over the Avon river where movie-
Javert committed suicide.

There’s a fish and chips place across
the road from 221B
Baker St., run by an Indian couple,
and a park nearby
so you can buy your food and then use it
to taunt the pigeons.

There’s a tiny townhouse in Dublin
with a sign that reads
“To Let” where the Celtic Woman
headquarters sits,
and they welcome and accommodate
visitors, especially fans.

There is a lookout spot called Arthur’s
Peak that takes one
hour to hike to and provides a perfect
view of the Royal Mile
in Edinburgh where there are always
bagpipes in the street.

There’s a hotel in Barking just off the
highway with showers
and a toilet down the hall and bunk
beds and crap telly
in the rooms, and the lobby smells like
dirt and smoke.

There’s a blue notebook with the London
skyline – Big Ben,
The Eye, the Shard, the Gherkin – and
it is full of places
I visited once and wrote about in case I
ever want to visit again.