Today, pressed down by the weight of knowing
This world, full of things I’m incapable of showing.
A melancholy morning drifts into thin grey light of day
Leaving me naked in flat shadows, tones of green
Invisible in photographs.
My car is pointed west, toward home, but my heart
Yearns for another place. Long gone.
Ribbon of highway, crossing this great land from before
To after, and back again.
Another sad song on the tired radio, like a lullaby,
Or a love song, or all the things I’ll never find to say.
And who would I say them to, if I could?
This, our country, made of rust and wood and people and grit.
There are days when I don’t believe tomorrow will come,
Yet others still when I worry more that it will
And always and always and always more of the same.
We fear and long for freedom in equal measure,
Add up scores of secret shame and pretended victory,
But the equation stands empty
From side to side, all for naug