It was to be a joint poetry project

We would travel across Amerika

Writing poetry along the away

But it did not work out that way

The whole thing became too hard for you

And you left me just over a week ago

I am now sitting by the pool of a motel

The sun is less than an hour old and the blue water

Is catching the light now that it is free from early guests

The owner of the motel is washing dust from his well used truck

Otherwise everything is still apart from the fickle desert breeze

I am on the road again today after taking a days break

To recharge my dying batteries which were running on empty

You have sent me a message apologising for your sudden departure

But you are not as driven as I am and wanted the sea and the beach

I can see your reasoning but neither my pen nor I can keep still for long

It has always been that way and I need to travel and discover Amerika

She has many moods which I need to reflect when writing my poetry

I think of myself more as a poet than a journalist or even a novelist

As I know that the yellow wallpaper in my cabin is not yellow but a faded green

 

 

Outlaw