The September song.

September song.

Tonight the skies wept, the moon wept with me. I am living near Lake St. Clair now and I dreamed of the Pacific ocean.  I dreamed of the Texas highway 35. I became a heavy rock and I cannot escape.

I wish for Highway 80. I want to cross the country and spend time in Reno. Drink a Long Island ice tea and remember things lost. It is early September and I know. The California mountains would be so damn amazing. I would hug the trees in the Redwood forest and find a place to allow nature to re-teach me peace and calm again.
I would stop in San Francisco. Maybe find a kind lady to dance with in the city of love? We could drink the cold beer and we could watch the powerful sea.

I would drive down Highway one. I would find Monterey bay and I would sit forever watching my Pacific and I would never complain no-more. I would seek out the hippy gals and the Gypsies. We would burn some sage and celebrate being alive.

I would go to Big Sur. I would stay a year and I would write my novel. Just me, the God blessed beauty of Big Sur and time to think and to write. After one year.

I would find Highway 35. I will Texas two-step with a pretty Texas gal in Belton, Texas and I will find Austin, Texas. Find a proper tavern. Drink and sing for Texas, dance and sing for the pretty girls. I can remember. 

I would sit by the Austin River and maybe I would read some poetry in the city of Austin. Tonight the skies wept, the moon wept with me. For people missed and for lover’s lost in the mist of time.

I told the kids at the poetry reading once. Love many, dance every day and stay away from dying people. Keep happy people close, keep love alive and travel. Time wait for no-one. We must make time for the joyous things we love my friends.

Coyote