After years of painting you
Tones of turbulent indigo,
Tending and transforming you,
I’m busy building you back
To basic, a fresco of freedom
For us both in walls of white,
Whittled back to what it was
Before I splashed a signature
Of substance and delight, hoping
A house could be a home, hanging you
With shadow and light, filling you
With finite fragments of all that I’d known,
Looking for a secret place, a sanctuary
For a certain time, placing Joni’s
Travelogue, framed in browns
On the bedroom wall, reckless
Daughter and muse of mine, parcelled,
Packed and now waiting removal
From this very sojourn, this song
About the midway, this intersection
Of 30 and 40, a reflective pause
In this tiny town where I never
Thought to stay, this hallow place
That prickled like a cactus tree
Till I heard it in the wind, that
Hissing, that constant twisting
Urge for going, back to the road
That lays in wait for me, cursed and charmed
But there are those who are born to stay
And others who are born to take the highway.

In that reoccurring dream
Beneath the constant darkness
Of the night, I see myself, still
Smiling as the free man in Paris
And I can hear it, even in the light,
Despite all your lofty protestations
That this place could be my place,
Soulful solace amid the hookers
And hash, but the eyes of the woman
Of heart and mind on the wall
Foretold the fear that we now face;
I am a prisoner of the white lines
On the freeway, bound not to permanent
Position, slowing down long enough to find
A place to come in from the cold,
To rest amid the warmth, a refuge
From the road, a lesson in survival,
A need for nutrition, but I am flesh
And blood and creature curious, craving
More and more from this Hejira, this journey
Not destined to be here and always,
Forever was never our factor, bound
To your tiny rooms and hallways
I’ve seen it all from both sides now
And all I want is not here growing crabby
But there and hungry and happy.

I know you will haunt me, shadows
Circling my final flight like Amelia
Lost out on her search for shore
While the black crow flies towards
The something shining, something
Seen long ago and now felt even more.

We’ve been good friends, indeed,
A fact not fiction, a love not lost
But you’ve been a mere chapter
All the same, a long season of blondes
I’ve tired of but words run short
In me now, in this place where I’m
Paying the cost, in these rooms
That have closed in on me
As time slipped by so suddenly,
So I strip you back to before,
Yet different somehow, similar
Though faintly forever changed,
The footprints never fully fading,
This flight tonight will be final
Though the sky is ablaze with stars
That never burn brighter than when
They’re already fleeting and falling.

I laid for too long neath your roof,
Dreaming of another, darker, wondering
About the what if and what could be
But let’s not talk about fare thee wells
For the wind is in and it’s set me free,
Packed with a case of you to last me
Well as I spiral through this Circle Game,
This carousel of life that looks back on itself
Through time, returning to pivotal points
Already changing and bringing me
Back into frame, to something
Once remembered, something
That can hold me, something
To inspire me, something
To encourage me.

After years of painting you
Tones of turbulent indigo,
Turning and transforming you,
I am busy building you back
To basic, finding a freedom
For us both in walls of white
But no canvas is truly the same
After it’s first been rendered,
There’s always the shadow and light,
Always something that slips away,
Always the rest that sinks within,
Always the parts that cement and stay…

While the lady sings…

“I am on a lonely road
And I am travelling,
Travelling, travelling, travelling,
Looking for something
What can it be…
All I really, really want
Our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me and in you.”