Friday, December 08, 2006

KEYHOLES IN MY MIND

Yesterdays little exercise leads very well into this...in case anyone had wondered where my name came from...

Too long in the Wasteland
hear the trucks on the highway
and the ticking of the clock
there's a ghost of a moon in the afternoon
bullet holes in the mailbox
bullet holes in the mailbox
key holes in my mind

too long in the wasteland
too long in the wasteland
I've fallen behind

she said why don't you come see me
when the sun goes down
it'll be just like the old days
when I used to let you hang around
well I don't know
I might not speak the language anymore

too long in the wasteland
too long in the wasteland
will close some doors

the people in the village
watch their children play
at the sight of a stranger
they call the kids away
just leave that man alone
I hear the mother say
he's been

too long in the wasteland
too long in the wasteland's
what made him that way

well, I hadn't intended to bend the rules
but whiskey don't make liars
it just makes fools
so I didn't mean to say it
but I meant what I said

too long in the wasteland
too long in the wasteland
must've gone to my head

jet trail in the sunset
a long way away
cutting 'cross the horizon
at the edge of the day
and it calls Steve
come fly away
but I've been

too long in the wasteland
too long in the wasteland
I believe I'll have to stay

yeah, I've been
too long in the wasteland
too long in the wasteland
I believe I'll have to stay

James McMurtry

5 comments:

Barbara said...

For some reason the image this poem evoked for me was a drive along the loneliest stretch of road imaginable in northern Texas. That has to be the most devastated wasteland in the entire U.S.

Dave said...

Barbara - I love those lonely stretches of Texas highway. I remember a road trip to Big Bend National Park with a few of my friends. It was in 2000 and we were driving an '82 Buick Estate Wagon--the kind with the tailgate that would open down or to the side--with only 23,000 miles on it, if you can believe that. The highway was covered with these black-billed Texas roadbirds who were all calculating our speed at 90 MPH. We were going 115.I bet we dug twenty of them out of our grill!

Cheers!

Mother of Invention said...

Ah, Steve..you never know when the wasteland could become fertile ground once again! Then watch yourself grow!

Old Lady said...

I almost thought you were going TS Eliot on us! Seems like James is taking after his Daddy. I'm with Mother on this.

steve said...

Barbara it is a little spare here in North Texas and gets worse as you head west. And theres nothin to do besides shoot at Mailboxes...

I like McMurtry a lot... yes it runs in the Mcmurtry family I suppose, with Papa writing books. James has a real edge to him. Pure Texas, he uses the figures of speech that I have grown up with. As far as ts eliot goes, well, Shantih shantih shantih...
Its the best you will do on an average day....