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Soundtrack to my life

June 4, 2008

I’m sitting in a railway station
Got a ticket for my destination

Every time I go home the same song plays in my head.

On a tour of one night stands, my suitcase and guitar in hand
and every stop is neatly planned for a poet and a one man band

So excited to go home, I return musically to what I listened to as a child, the soft voices and comforting words allowing me to mentally journey home hours before my plane leaves.

Homeward bound
I wish I was homeward bound
Home, where my thought’s escaping
Home, where the music’s playing
Home, where my love lies waiting
Silently for me

I’ll wait in the airport tonight again, as always, ready to breathe free again. Even though I’ll be listening to someone else, those words will return again. I’ll know that in just a few hours I’ll be home again.

Tonight I’ll sing my songs again,
I’ll play the game and pretend.

By the time I land in Michigan my back will have loosened up and I’ll feel happier than I’ve felt since New York. I can smell it already, and I’ll spend all day today with images of the corn and soybean fields on Ridge Hwy rolling through my mind.

But all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me.

I’ll climb a tree or two. I’ll visit with people who knew me when. I’ll stop by Peppie’s grave. I’ll suck down cups of coffee because it’s too short a visit to waste with much sleep. I’ll study in the grad and be so damn glad to be there.

Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
Silently for me.

I can’t listen to this while I’m here though. The sights and smells are too vivid. I only listen to Simon and Garfunkel now when I’m going to travel.


Let us be lovers
We’ll marry our fortune’s together.
I’ve got some real estate here in my bag.

There’s another Simon and Garfunkel that I only listen to when I travel, when I come home, drained.

So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner Pies
And walked off to look for America

When my back spasms again and my lungs retreat from the air here, I listen and remember the trip that is a dream already.

Kathy, I said, as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh
Michigan seems like a dream to me now

I hold on to those thoughts and images, curled up in bed with my pigs, eyes closed tight unwilling to see this place.

It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw
I’ve gone to look for America

Sometimes, I’m jealous of Allison.

“Kathy, I’m lost,” I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They’ve all gone to look for America

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