The Road Home (A Poem For Jack)

All I remeber is that we were lost.

Lost.

Neck deep in highway and road.

Asfault and gravel.

Yellow lines.

And this is the road.

And this is my home.

I threw my head back at the wind in my face and laughed.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Everything is a consant blur in the little toy mechine.

And this is my car.

And this is my home.

I am a lost cause, built only for the road.

The open world is my lady.

And she calls to me sweetly.

Like a cluster of bees to a pot of honey and wild flowers,

"You are your own. Go my child, go. I will meet you in the promise land. I will make you. I will meet you in the promise land...."

I herd dead mans voice...

Jack.

I'm coming back to you.

To New York....

And this is the road...

and this is my home.