Dusty Places

Purple mountains
Don’t replace oceans.
There used to be a swaying to my gait.
I had the idea
You took the notion.
That away was a new and promising place.
Away was a new and promising place.

So we traded in seashells
For rusted old cars.
And we gave up our pink drinks
For honky-tonk bars.
There is no longer sand
That’s filling my shoes.
The sky is the only
New shade of blue
We see.
You and me,
Stuck in a cowboy’s land
With dusty trails that have no end.

But I need to shake this dirt from me.
Cacti and sage fade closer to sea
We get.
Still yet,
I long to be wet.
But not by rain.
It’s not the same.
My love I fear my feet are webbed.
My love I fear I might be dead.
Or at least asleep
Without having dreamed.
You feel it when you are inside of me.
You feel it when you are inside of me.

I long for salt
That stings the air.
And curls throughout
Honey colored hair.
There’s too much land
With too many homes.
There’s too much earth
Out there to roam.
I need to sink
And float
And dive
And roll back through
With the oncoming tide.
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