I’ve got highways in my blood, ma’am,
Rail ties for bones.
Great Grandfather was a civil engineer,
designed them great sweeping divided bridges,
the history of my name’s swung sledges to spikes,
line by line by line,
‘til coast met coast ‘n freight ‘n passenger car ran.
I’ve got highways in my blood, ma’am,
mile markers bubblin’ ‘n frothin’ in my footsteps.
In my 23 years, I’ve been to where the sun sets into the ocean,
I’ve stood on Ozarks bluffs contemplating starred skies,
I’ve been on west-coast shores at dusk,
seen the ocean quench the sun.
I’ve sweated in the Texas Summer Sun in a Shoulder to Shoulder Packed Baptist Church,
I’ve stood grave-side below over-cast skies ‘n upon vividly emerald green grass,
marveled that even nature mourned that passing,
I’ve been hip deep in flash-flood-waters,
I’ve been homeward-bound in white-out blizzards with five-minute-frost,
I’ve seen the distant Rocky Mountains on a too clear day behind mountain after mountain,
paint-card gradients of gray to pale, distant, blue,
I’ve ordered Sodas, Pops, AND Soda-Pops,
I’ve been humbled by scraping sky-lines,
‘n wondered at my own tree-sway,
I’ve coughed up desert dust,
‘n sung Cikote songs at lonesome moons.
I’ve got highways in my blood, ma’am,
travel in my shoes,
but I’m _standin’_ here next to,
‘n writin’ about,
You.
