the next motel

all I ever wanted to do

was walk down the dirt road

I saw through a car window

somewhere between

California & Arizona

a single mail box by the blacktop

to be dropped off by a friend

walking the last few miles

dusted in thirty degree heat

holding all I owned in my grip

to our cabin base of the hills

surrounded by trees & quiet

where you would be waiting for me

wanting my news word of the world

to hold me again


I drove on to the next motel

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