The Colorado Autumn breeze is playing with the windchimes on the porch
It never stops, it wants to drive me crazy
The Friday morning sun bakes down on peeling paintwork too far gone to scorch
It needs some work, I know she thinks I'm lazy
That old black dog comes to visit way too often
We've made it through another year
But I don’t know
Where I go from here

Errands that she says she needs to run, she takes the pickup into town
The old routine, she won't be back for hours
Bless her heart, she tries to give me space to clear my head and slob around
Time to smell the coffee and the flowers
She thinks she knows what I've been going through
But I would never let her get that near
She can't tell me
Where I go from here

I check the list of contact numbers in the left breast pocket of my shirt
I drain my beer, light one last cigarette
I file the bills, I write the note, I leave my things piled neatly on the dirt
Record some words I hope I won't regret

My dad's old army automatic, stripped and cleaned and oiled just like new
Hollowpoints my best and final choice
I rack the slide, take one last look around, the mountains framed in china blue
The pistol speaks but I don't hear its voice
I know she'll cry, just as I'm crying now
I've never let her see me shed a tear
Now I know
Where I go
From here

© Pete Smith 2019