Kentucky bluegrass

And wild horses running,

Through towns with names

Like Utopia and Big Otter,

Driving down endless highways,

Through snow-capped mountains

And the burning infernos of Moscow,

Along the rivers edge with

Some love scorned singer blaring

On a fuzzy radio station from

Somewhere in Lexington or

Perhaps Charleston.

We get lost in each other,

The only company on open roads

And cheap drive-in motels,

Searching endlessly for

Something that will always

Delude us and our reasons

For leaving the small town home,

That place we let a thousand

Miles separate us from.

And as we are driving,

In the midst of statues and cages,

We dream of a destination that

Lies to the west, far out of our

Eastern thoughts and regrets

And our longings to keep driving,

Beyond borders, past state lines,

The ones that remain close, still

A safe distance from all those

Lost souls, all those eyes

That hungrily wait for our return

To their reality.