I feel like I want to go home
But I am home
And the cardinal calls out
Lonesome and mad
From the walnut tree
The flowers you planted have died
And now, here, they shiver,
Swaying and pedal-bare
As the wind comes through whistling
Cactus flower blooms in the desert
Under the stars
Sprouts in the asphalt
Under the cars
Spitting and sputtering
You know well that I was never
Ate by a whale
My lies are the dead bird
That gives this sad, grim parking lot meaning
I feel like I want to go home
But I am home
And I dream of a kettle drum, booming and wailing
From somewhere far away
And here I will wait by the door
Like an old dog
Hearing the footsteps of all the strangers
Who are just passing by.