a blurry vision of a country indeed…always I’ve wanted to leave..go away and never return to a land built by Puritans..blue-bloods…sell this and buy that…get outta my way Mac…I’m coming through…make way…

Miller left America after mother-fucking the land of liberty from sun-up to slumber…only to go to Paris where he gave the French a piece of his mind as well…is there no solace…why bother…

the constant craving to run-away…to just leave all behind…all troubles…all burdens left in a heap for some poor bastard to clean-up the next day…with mop and bleach…always leaving a mess…

Los Angeles…New York…Chicago…Montreal…New Haven…Asheville…St. Louis…Iowa City…run…run…run…

Greyhounds at four in the morning…parked cars on side streets…a sidewalk bench in Greenwich Village..the cold chill of winter and the freshness of spring welcomed under a tree in Central Park…take it all in…take it all in…

gone from one’s control…without dollar to spare…a hot cup of coffee and a hard roll with butter…get in line…this is the cost of freedom…

still running…always running…never finding home…never finding home…