drifted into town like an unwanted tumbleweed
wearing the dirt and dust of a squandered life
sand in my sandy blond hair
nobody wanted to even look at me
useless tumbleweed they thought
- blowing down the street; Drift!
I wasn’t one of them, in fact I didn’t know what I was
matter form function, a specimen on a slide
but I wasn’t one of them
this was a town of 10,000 towns I’d been in before
no Xanadu or Shangri-La
had a cheap breakfast and some strong coffee
a waitress named janelle
with her honeys and babys and sugars
walked around and sat downtown for a while
but there was nothing going down, the gold rushers had come and gone
blues in black & white photos
who brought their pick-axs, pans worn with fatigue
treasure maps leading to a secret mine
that nobody can ever find
a few hit it lucky but most came back empty-handed
with broken backs, broken spirits or both
some didn’t come back at all
no, I was 125 years too late and I didn’t think
to bring my gold mining equipment anyway
anyway, that was a long time ago…anyway
here goes the tumbleweed on the loose again
experiencing what wanderers feel just tumbling along
leaving town before sundown
