PASSING BY

I have roads in my pockets. Curves

and straightaways own a piece of

my steps, as I never look back over a

thunderstorm wet shoulder. Hats have a

way of getting in my way.

 

I’ll find a coat for winter and shorts

for summer. I found a pair of sneakers

in Phoenix and some gloves in Omaha;

stuff finds me, keeping the skin fair and true.

 

Everyone’s looking out for tomorrow.

I walk until exhaustion brings me a blanket.

Roadside rest stops know me.

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