Long

Pass the red-headed, long-legged, money-pitted billboards, across the multi-racial, multi-ethnic, multi-hundred dollar homes, around the concreted and steeled and plastered quasi-leveled hi-rises, cruise by fruit cakes and jelly rolls, cinnamon sticks and honey buns, roll into then out of the biggest, so so so biggest stadium that ever was until the next biggest soo soo soo biggest stadium was built right next to the first as if to say fuck-off-kid, reach into the back-seat for a cool brew by mexico's finest, exit stage right and head for the promised land, God's country, straight shot zoned beauty of a road that runs home, then overpasses are bridges and bridges cross real water, and the dear deer dash, and the agile armadillo almost always appears, and the teeniest tiniest things tap tap tap trying to take the thunder, and all that green grass and them green trees mean something because i'm getting there, closer and closer and so much closer to the one place in the world where it's okay to be me, where the silence of childrens sleep and the quiet of my wife's eyes and hands and touch keeps me cucumber cool on the hottest of nites, where i'll say fuck you work fuck you world fuck you world wide web fuck you for tonite or tomorrow because these old batteries that are crusty dusty need recharging or rearranging or revamping, and i know the only place for the electric shock love that i need is between the loving fingers of hatchlings that i call clay, mazz, and noe, it's between the mismatched cotton sheets that my sara keeps oh so clean, there... right there. my home.