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