state route fifty-eight
in the state with a magical fate
one filled with learning and pain
so that one may be born again
you hear about smooth tennessee whiskey
and the sweetwater that flows through us all
you see kudzu killing a tree
and wonder how beautiful death can really be
crickets, hounds, and hollering wives
harmonizing with cicadas suddenly coming alive
we bask under a foggy summer moon
infused with a bright sort of doom
while the sunset fills the roads
another day has passed
on sweet state route fifty-eight
you’re left with a bittersweet feeling
among all,
a distant desire to create
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