make my move…

you’re always writing ’bout people leaving…taking off and getting lost in America…you think that’s right…think people do that…

sure they do…

they just up and leave wives…kids…roots behind…

yes…

why…

they’re wandering souls…they’re constantly on the move…like coyotes…they just go places to be going places…it’s in their blood…can’t help themselves…can only stay put for so long…then they gotta leave…go to Vermont…or New York…maybe Texas for awhile…or New Mexico…somewhere so they can be lost for a spell…get away from salespeople…insurances and assurances…to be wild…sleepin’ in shelters…under viaducts…on park benches…

you ever do that…

yes…my soul gets restless…have to leave…don’t have a choice…either that or stay and kill myself…feelin’ trapped sometimes…a nomad’s life…that’s what it is…a nomad’s life…goin’ from town to town…washin’ your clothes at all night laundry-mats…reading books all day at the library…havin’ a beer next to another wanderin’ soul…talk ’bout the road…small towns like Joplin…Batesville…Paris, Tennessee…tellin’ stories like the time I went up to Montreal to escape Hurricane Irene…or when I got lost in Connecticut and it was pitch black with rain comin’ down in buckets…and what did I do…I danced in it…got outta my car and danced in it…these are the actions of restless souls…

you hittin’ the road ‘gain…

probably…when the leaves change and there’s a peace to the earth…nice and cool…that’s when I’ll make my move…throw a dart at a map and make my move…

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