Roadie dust & River songs

 The roadie dust is thick down here,

pulsing with memories,

full of drifting voices from many decades,

the times and tides, seasons and endings, 

and we take Highway 6 and Highway 60,

clickety-click, 66. Bingo!

And all the while, the river sings to me

songs of remembering, tunes of love,

haunting lyrics of a thousand yesterdays and lost tomorrows.

I am on a no-mans road of dreams.

Road dust has called me home,

stirring years and years and bloody years of time that sat,

and waited, drawing me back here.

The whispers I ignored,

and the loves that yearned for me,

waiting beneath the shifting clouds of a thousand nights,

nestled in ancient forests,

scattered over the riverbeds of eternity.

The Waymaker has been here,

so I am ready now,

its time to face the dust,

and a past I thought I wouldn't never meet again.


But that roadie dust laughed when it saw me,

chortling, "I remember you now, it's all coming back,

you haven't changed and you're still full of life."

"You are just how I remember you too," I replied,

"a home for my heart, quiet for my soul,

peace in my head,

and days that rain forever."

We both laughed in the dust together,

me and the roadie.

I wanted to stay longer,

but the plane was revving on the runway.

I still had a tattoo to get,

some eternity ink for my skin,

a piece of my last night in this beautiful Port and I was even given

a little bit of gelato to eat along the way.

Roadie dust and River Songs.

I haven't talked about you, River

and your steady burble of incense that sang throughout the night.

Your heartbeat matching mine,

with the pulse of quiet for my mind,

a crooning lullaby that draws me back to all the those years and years,

the loves and friends and fireside nights with lives alight...,

a forest full of wist, and a kaleidoscope of pictures that hold me.

💖👋👋💥💦💦🌿🌿

But a plane is revving on the runway,

as the roadie dust flies into the air, the river songs whoosh over the rocks,

and a fresh tattoo scratches in my spirit 

while a good son waits a thousand miles away for me,

as I grasp a cold gelato, waving with my free hand,

knowing that Roadie dust and River Songs,

will always be here for me.

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