the kansas beauty
and the michigan poet
sung of cliche faces,
shallow eyes, blind smiles,
brutal words, hostile handshakes
and the cold realities

walking upon glass bridges
over quicksand seas
then driving in alive
rowing to isolations
hiding farm castles of
the abandoned kind

where they'd go
to keep their spirits high
tickling the strings
crying acoustic thunder
across the plowed fields
and the great lake filled dreams

the weight of broken beats
hollowed by the heart
heavy on somber sands
as they hug the spot light
in a folksy nowhere little town