Breath in deep and sleep on your back in prairie-grass beneath the Milky Way’s cloudy arms in Wisconsin, and don’t EVER look back East to New Jersey, just keep moving, Running, Hiding in boxcars and rail-road yards, Two tattoos, One for each hand, As I Plunge my way deeper Into the Heartland, Savage Indian screams and axle-grease War-paint, Long hair matted down Over desperate scared face, Taste Blood and fear, and the immeasurable loneliness of sleeping on the side of a Minnesota highway.
So Here’s your American dream, So Don’t you Let it slip away; The Rocky Mountains are much colder When you got no place to stay. There’s a code of the road, for every beaten traveler, But Tonight the Pennsylvania Turnpike is the only thing that matters Escaping West to Ohio’s chest the wandering American will find a way
to Avalon.
Original Poetry 
Leave a Reply