Mesa, AZ - Bad Books

We passed eight hundred miles, talking circles about living with loss

You said your sense of humor’s always helped you get above and across

Every hurdle, every chasm, every shocking and unspeakable blow

Just proves the universe is chaos, so you laugh to clear the lump from your

throat

But if you’re fixed on being bitter

Go be bitter on your own

We’re still two hours from El Paso

Arizona’s such a long way to go

The chemicals were coursing through our bloodstreams at incongruous rates

I was time-traveling inward through a past life I can never erase

You were hanging out the window

You said, «We're just a beggar’s banquet in space.»

And you were laughing at the moon

And you were cursing it for wearing your face

Me and New Mexico are orphans

Or is it bastards?

Either way: I think I know a guy in Roswell

We’ll hitch a moon ride

Steal you back your face

You sleep and whistle «Blackbird» backwards while my eyes cut her name in clay

You wake to Mesa, Arizona

Say, «Let it go, she’ll change her mind someday.»

You took the wheel in Mesa, Arizona

«I got the rest, man

You can drift away.»