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.”