Don De Lillo, and loafers all around-
wheat field chino’s,
and a crowded summer in my hometown.
haphazard inspired: I wanna travel, ship myself, train hop
out ol’ Midwest
Kansas, Iowa, Nebraska,
some nowhere town-
a cabin, and a lake
I’ve seen it, dreamt it, written it
before…
and perhaps out there’s a diner,
the kind, where old men meet, behind on rent
the bar: cold, metallic, water spots-
memories lined upon the conversations left
There’d be a girl, hair pulled back, all unkempt
eyes caught in a storm and oddly bereft
Myself: Another wanderer passing through…
and… I’d look to her to save me,
or maybe I’d want to save her-
but ring on the finger
husband works hard, one boy, two dogs
struggling to upkeep the inherited farm-
I drink my coffee, read the paper, and my map
tip too much
and it’s off to Ohio, Michigan, Montana
in search of…another ‘just passing through’
