stole a page out of the atlas in your den
marked a route, random in blue-ink ball point pen
you and me, albuquerque
will keep the winters from ruining your car
head out towards the clear, southern hemisphere
until we reach the coast
past the sands, the cities and second-hand antiques
weeks pass on, better to go then get cold feet
don't be shy, the california sky
won't fall if we change our course
turn and chase the dawn, while we whisper on
about what we miss the most

you were born at exactly the right time
born to change these static ways of mine