West Would Be My Direction

If I were to be fired right now
I'd hit the open road,
Go as far as $1,000 would take me.
I'd buy a tent and some cans,
A map and some gas,
And plan nothing other than places
I've wanted to see,
Know I must see
Or have seen but want to see again.

West would be my direction,
Putting manifest destiny into action
Like I've never done before
Essential stops would be the high planes,
And the Grand Canyon's vast low,
Yosemite and Yellow Stone Parks,
San Francisco, San Diego, Tijuana,
And to touch the Herclaen Pacific
And taste its salty brine.

I'd collect dust of America
Underneath my worn-out sneakers,
Fraternize with pill-popping truckers
In the midnight McDonalds haze.
The open road would be my God -
My moving bedside, masterful in expanse.
Identity and truth would fade into nothing.
When places move so fast into distance
You need know nothing but know you live
And the air, be it frozen in freedom
Or car-drenched in pollution,
Will tell you every day you live,
Because living is change with the hope to adapt.

07/09