We navigated the great wide American plains
avoiding the chimerical swirl of the turbulence
by taking the back roads and byways
of the sky, running from the grief, you and I
With just enough gas to make it to
some cantaloupe country town
to sleep in a dirty motel room
as the sirens twisted on by
No we were not making good time,
instead killing the moments
and by the time we got to Sioux City,
you tried to kick your way
through the U-Haul door
in the madness of the memories
you never could embrace
The sky was red and green as my genetic memory
fed the agonized stress of the magical marble:
So hell, I was swirling, too
thinking of Dorothy knocked silly
by the door and the way
my grandfather's family
was annihilated in West Texas
This fear of storms is just a test, I guess
We ducked for the basement
and hoped for the best
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