Tow Truck Song

Two long hours on the side of the road,
waiting for the man who will help me get towed,
the sun is shining through the windowpane,
I guess it’s high time to write a song.

If you were here, you’d be changing my tire,
and you’d be gritting your teeth like a real live wire,
instead I’m here laying down these words yet again,
and the towing man is coming along.

The road is long and the road is hazy,
and the trucks driving by are getting closer than crazy,
their big engines rattle in the back of my brain,
and the afternoon is gathering on.

And hey wait a minute there’s gold in the trees,
and the wide open windows spill a warm little breeze,
the way the clouds are gathering, it reminds me of rain.
They say the tow truck is ambling along.

Supposed to be somewhere, supposed to be there on time,
but now I’m killing hours on this long white line.
If I had to do it over I might do it again –
it’s the way you look at something makes it wrong.

So next time you’re sitting on the side of the road,
do something nice with your mind while you waits to get towed.
If you had to do it over you might do it again –
when you’re feeling right, it can’t be so wrong.

Early Autumn

No words for
the colors on
this fiery hillside,

so that I do not
move to take

even one
but rather hold

each muscle
still to breathe
deep the delicate

scent of evening
as elegance carves
its name into the

part of my brain
that stores such
things, which must

be near the place
for love, because
I think of you then

and the way we
write our names
on the body

of one another,
the taste of living
on our lips,

as all the words
into colors.