Whether at Potosi or Farmington,
Whether the Cup with Jack or Boone’s Farm run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The cigarette ashes of Life keep falling one by one.
Each Morn a thousand semis brings, you say;
Yes, but where leaves the pickup truck of Yesterday?
And this first Summer month that brings the pop-up camper and motor home
Shall take spring turkey hunter and Ski-dooer away.
Well, let it take them! What have we to do
With long haul cowboys and snowbirds on the move?
Let Billy-Bob and Virgil bluster as they will,
Or Ma call to Supper–heed not you
With me along the strip of alley strown
That just divides the mini-mart/gas station from the sown,
Where name of Vern and Bubba is forgot–
And Peace to the trucker (who ate all the burritos) on his golden Throne!
The Big Book of Jokes underneath the Bough,
Cheap smokes, fireworks, whiskey, worms–and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness–
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Thanks to my friend Stacey for the photo of this delightful oasis in the Missouri desert. Apologies and thanks also to Omar Khayyam for the The Rubaiyat, a pretty good little poem.