Typed, Slightly Aged

her eyes are ablaze
with a fevered love
                          a rage
    the interstate
       a silent friend
throwing possessions off the side of the road
pages in the wind
   then the sun goes down
   light the fire
   sings the choir
   start again

on the radio
  i hear his moan
       his voice
       a saxophone
  says "it's never too late"
  me too
 with a tired outlaw blues
 in bad need of a shave
 the heart digs deeper
   my fingers
   into your skin
   into the soil
  forget the toil
 heaven wears a veil
 busted hinges
  lost the gate
    tumblin' dice
    toward winds of fate

as the road bursts into flames
behind you
and your rearview mirror shatters to pieces
telephone lines torn down
by a violent storm
that whispered freedom
lost your form
playing cards with your demons
    running on empty
   ah! to breathe again
   and the body's hungry
          the heart is hungry
              soul is hungry
oh! nothing ever seems to kill a man
 and stars settle lonely on the plains
    stars
      they settle lonely on the plains