blue station wagon ...

blue station wagon ...

i'm driving around in the blue station wagon ...
driving around and around and around
i been here and i been there
seems like i been
just about everywhere
and still i ends up here
here in the same old place
out down the 88
past the motel flops
past the pee-by-the-willow-tree
tip-toe hops
past the scenic view points
and the sloppy-joe
pick-up joints
past the weigh-stations of the cross
where long-haul truckers
sleep between profit and loss
past the roadside coffeeshops
and the fat cowboy cops
looking for pussy to munch
or gays to punch
far past the endless fields
of frozen crops
and burnt out Christmas tree tops
until like a full-blown heart attack
everything stops
you know the place i'm sure
most people simply call it
nowhere ...


i'm driving around in the blue station wagon ...
driving around and around and around
listening to the worst of K-LITE music
seeping like Amish honey
from the radio
and here i am
humming mindlessly along
trying to remember the words
to some faraway song
words that once
were like a storyline
underscoring a photo album
of a true love found
and a passion bound to last
until the sudden crackle
of highway static
shreds the moment
into cross-cut fragments
of melancholy thoughts
scattering like confetti
out the back window
and all i can think of
is that something in me
has stalled
or faltered
or clogged
all i can think of
is that something must be wrong
so very very wrong
but i can't put my finger on it
can't say exactly what
that something something is ...


i'm driving around in the blue station wagon ...
driving around and around and around
all alone once again
except for the memories
i got packed in a steamer trunk
clattering around
like a corpse
trying to thrash
through the quagmire of denial
and find some way
back to life
only to discover that
ending is not mending
and torn denim beliefs
get so full of holes
there ain't no one can stitch
them together again
but hey
no sense crying
no sense trying
to blow the morning fog away
and so i roll on knowing
i been alone before
been alone
most of the time
been too much of a dreamer
too much a drifter
living in restless boots
shoeshined
by one escape
after another ...


i'm driving around in the blue station wagon ...
driving around and around and around
i was sure someone called "Shotgun"
but never showed up
or at least not in time
before i started out
'cause when you gotta go
you gotta go
or they'll find you just sitting
and idling away your time
inhaling the carbon monoxide fumes
creeping like invisible fingers
from the rotted out floorboards
and some will surely wonder
which is better
before or after
life or death
but what they don't get
is that sometimes you can't tell
which from which
you know
sometimes you don't know
left from right
or up from down
only thing for sure is that
sometimes things last
a little too long ...


i'm driving around in the blue station wagon ...
driving around and around and around
i needs me a woman with a hard-luck story
and courage in her soul
a woman who can fly me
over that valley in the 23^rd psalm
a woman who is better at using her head
than she is at giving it
a woman with strong hands
stained with ink and calloused with colour
hands that can lift
the furniture of sorrow
and redecorate even the darkest mood
a woman who will lay her fingertips
over these tired old eyes
and lull me to sleep
with gentle caresses
lull me into the dreams
of a younger man
with nothing but hope in his pocket
and a clear mind
that guesses there's a future
beyond the next turn in the road
and time to fill
beyond the next five minutes
a woman who carries me on
before the night crumbles
into dusty regrets
and the morning comes
to find me
forever gone ...

© Copyright, Kennedy James. All rights reserved.