wanderer passing through

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’