The Road

27 Apr


The Road ©

the road is a worn tire

a diner at four am

frost on a windshield

black ice

the road is home


the road is a waitress

teaheaded madness

lot-lizard prosties

and carnie hustlers

the road is a bed


the road is a song

a song of new ideas

a dirt trail to a cabin

a thumb in the rain

the road is mine


the road is hot asphalt

spinning hubcaps

the Edge

and back again

the road is love


the road is your arms

it is your eyes

your skin

a place to stay

the road is a white line


the road is a place to sell your soul

to a man with a Polaroid camera

who burns a roomful of pain

at Highway 61 and 49

the road is a trip


the road is Crazy Horse

it’s dead buffalo

without skin

in the noonday sun

the road is Holy


the road is old

older than you

it bears weight

in a knapsack

the road is a call


the road is a sweaty shirt

worn shoes

an empty stomach

making it to Sioux Falls

the road is a provider


the road is Red Rocks

outside of Denver

it’s a storm on the horizon

it’s the rumble of the heavens

the road is God


the road is a sign

with directions

towards a place with no name

where they still welcome more

the road is an agnostic


the road is a tired old man

ready to sleep

with unkempt hair

and a knowing look

the road has an end

and that end has a tomorrow


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