Made a home in
The County of Emmet
The smell of another Lucky Strike
As you’re trucking, state lines in the rear view
You made the trip down
Took you over to the field
To watch them circle the bases
Spring of ’01, the last time I’d see you in health
Made your arrangements
Buried you a block away
78 of Nemaha, right over on 6th street,
The paper read
Time of Day mid-afternoon
The smell of a Texas June
I’m sleeping in a car,
The news is crossing state lines, impedes my innocence
I learned about selfishness and mortality
As the youngest of the grandkids
Just trying to find a spot to sleep in your basement
I never heard your stories about the war