drifter’s moon

.

.

let’s hit the road,
no need to pack.
we’ll take your car —
(four bald tires
will get us there)
no thoughts of turning back.

where highway
hits horizon
the drifter’s moon
hangs high.
our gypsy hearts
and gypsy souls
keep us on the fly.

the mirror
shows the city lights
fading without a trace.
We’ll sleep beneath the cedars,
you’ll awake
in my embrace.

we’ll clamber
rocky cliffs,
bathe in woodland streams,
discover the mountain pool
remembered
from our dreams.

no plans lie
before us,
no thoughts of where we’ll stay.
with open hearts
and open minds,
our love will find a way.

…

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Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
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