7: Conclusion

The car was 49 hours old
but much older, with us sleeping
in it the night before, and the city looked strange,
stranger than when we left it in the morning
slowly spinning behind us 6 days ago,
America is high in the east but it lives
in the west, I know that for sure, like
I know a travelers life is for me, and so I
dedicate this long road poem to the spirit
of the American road, the jokes, the love, the nights
under cloudy skies, to the spirit that is
once a caring mother, a raging stallion and
a quiet river, the artery and life blood of the land, this
poem is also for the Dukes running free and mad
over routes going west and south and regretfully
east, may they blaze a trail from Mill Shoals to
the sea, I'm happy to be home just to realize
I don't ever wanna be home, I want the road
and running and loving and going, non-stop, so
c'mon boys let's sing again to the moon
in Tennessee mud, we'll never grow old,
or out of it, or fail, we're all an innocent
meandering idea, and I'll think of us
that way, on the road, laughing forever;
This is my truth.