The Verge

Drinking beers by the side of the road
The Highway Department has freshly mowed
the verge, now, that fresh cut smell
the hot sun, and what the hell,
We needed a break, pulled to the side
on this here coast-to-coast drive
a cold six pack, two-thirds spent
the last two are heaven sent,

Taste better than we expected
how our lives intersected
and brought us here, here and now
the long road left, on the right some cow,
Watching us with a big cow eye
curious, but not one to pry
where have we been, where are we going
the warm winds of change are blowing,

Blowing us here, blowing us there
On the Road, quite a pair
driving from ocean to ocean
that road-weary rocking motion,
As we spend each night in a small motel
drink some beers, kiss, don't tell
don't post our actions on Facebook
or tell anyone the path we took,

But in my journal, I write it all
paint on the ceiling, art on the wall
of each motel, each recovery
each day on the road, a new discovery,
Morning sun shining bright
memories, each road-hard night
another thousand miles to go
another highway verge to mow ...