Lightening southern drive, drove right up.
Good spot for awhile, gonna be some music.
Blew the cash right off, avoided the hassle.
Bruce Lee's burlap art was everywhere.
Semi-ancient silhouettes of hobos and boots.
In search of the miraculous new model.
J.B. King, Esq left that ghost town for Yuma.
And the doomed peyote tequila man cried.
Texas 1, 2, 3 and the lonesome high road.
Stage left, the shadows with flower parts.
Tumbleweeds and saltgrasses, twangs.
The realities of love and blood and bones.
Heaven is badass, gonna welcome me too.
Lake Michigan was forgot about for now.
Go there when you want, the final show.
High school teachers, Michael McDonald.
Italians with their Italian communications.
When in Rome, as they say and said again.
A mostly mindless mind, full of kindness.
Life is for living, death takes care of dying.
Eyes sparkled and looked directly into eyes.
Conversations were quick, but curious.
Poses and snaps, the night out mob circled.
Smell of perfume, old drinks, and bodies.
As always, worry is pointless, be patient.
Stay moving, keep writing, rock the house.
Soon, the Spaceforce will need recruits.