Maybe Not

As I sit in my car
And wonder where we are
I was wishing we could
Get lost like the beats
On the road, freedom free
Wind and cactus and bugs
In our teeth, gobbling on
The American landscape.
Alas, romantic… til you
Realize you’re homeless
And poetry doesn’t pay
And you never learned how
To farm. Your quaint garden
No replacement for year-
Round bread. Eat these words?
Deaf ears on empty stomach
Too much focus on need
To consume gospel.
The loaves are gone
And the wine?
I gave that up.
Years ago.
“It’s OK.” She says.
My eyes forsaking
This fantasy gone awry.
“Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”