to be twenty-five
in nineteen seventy-three
unshaved
in dirty jeans
making my way across
Kansas or
the Joshua Tree
in a beat up
Westfalia
with a pack of cigarettes
sliding back and forth
across the dashboard
and a copy of
Ask the Dust in the
passenger seat
with the cover missing
a burgundy guitar with
the high E snapped
in the back
and no idea of
where I'm going
or when I'll stop
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