you convinced me
to run away
under the light of
the bridge of anywhere U.S.A.
the fosphorescent glow
on the Hohman little Calumet
filled with soap and silt
and factory shit
we sat looking for hours
at the little box homes of alcoholics
and speed freaks
somewhere close to comfort
but nowhere near salvation
not nearly old enought to know
right from wrong
but somehow we knew
companionship
and where to hang our heads
as the morning dew
collected in the runoff
all the midwest could offer
worlds away from
a nurturing embrace
eyes always on the prize:
returning home.