Eugene

I think I'll drive out to Eugene, get a slide-in camper for
 My truck, pack a bamboo rod, hip boots, a book of flies from
 A Missoula pawn shop, rub mink oil into the cracked leather,
 Wonder about the old guy who tied these trout chew flies.
 They work good. Take along my Gibson JF45 made by women
 During World War II, coffee stained stack of maps, a little
 Propane stove, a pile of old quilts, a can opener, kipper
 Snacks, smoked oysters, gun powder tea, a copper teapot, and
 A good sharp knife.
 Sometimes you have to go - look for your life.
 I'll park by some rivers, cook up some rice and beans, read
 Ferlinghetti out loud, talk to the moon tell, her all my
 Life tales, she's heard them many times. I'll make up some
 New juicier parts, drink cold whiskey from a tin cup, sit in
 A lawn chair and fiddle with my memories, close my eyes and
 See. Sometimes you gotta go not look for nothin'.
 The Northwest is good, once you get off I-5 and wander up
 And down the Willamette dammit, on the back back roads. I
 Know a few people who'd let me park in their drive, plug in
 For a night or two, stay up late, and talk about these crazy
 Times - the blandification of our whole situation. And then
 Back to the woods. A dog is bound to find me sooner or
 Later. Sometimes you gotta not look too hard - just let the
 Dog find you.
 Then head south and east, maybe through Nevada, the
 Moonscape of Utah. Stay in some weird campground where
 Rodney and Marge keep an eye on things. Everybody's got a
 Story, everybody's got a family, and a lot of them have
 RV's. I'm on my way to the Ozarks, to the White River and
 The Kern. Those small mouth are great on a fly rod. And
 They're not all finicky like trout. Trout are English and
 Bass are Polish. And if I wasn't born in Central Europe I
 Should have been. Maybe it's not too late. Sometimes you
 Have to dream deep to find your real life at all.
 I might go on over through Memphis. I played a wedding at
 The Peabody Hotel once twenty odd years ago, and everybody
 Danced. Usually they just set there and stare. A few at
 Least sway. The roads are stupid crowded everywhere. Kids
 Coming along are used to it - all wired up and ready, or
 Wireless I guess, and even readier. World peace is surely on
 The horizon, once us old fuckers die. I'll do my part, but
 First I wanna to go across Tennessee into North Carolina.
 Fish some of those little mountain streams, catch some brook
 Trout which are God's reminder that creation is a good idea.
 The world we've made scares the hell out of me. There's
 Still a little bit of heaven in there and I wanna show it
 Due respect. This looks like a good spot up here. You can
 Try me on the cell, but most places I wanna be it doesn't
 Work. Sometimes you got to listen hard to the sounds old
 Mother Earth still makes - all on her own.