HOW OFTEN I DREAM


           II.

           Can't make out the year
           skinny and denimed
           collar up
           smoking away
           sometimes I'm hitching
           or driving
           or riding
           the leaving more vital than the destination
           sometimes alone, sometimes Doug is along
           it's Maine it's Colorado
           it's nowhere I know and dark
           I walk the white line to avoid falling off
           rain and then I'm in a car and I'm scared
           this one always ends
           I wake up cloudy heavy aching

           how often I dream of old roads