driving nevada 562
passing sunset park
the air is a scorcher.
desert mountains surround
this dusted valley.
your radio plays AM stations
in your old '46
as the motor roars and my hair
blows wild in the wind.
similar to when you raised me,
but now twice my old age.

the air is a scorcher
and I'll be here only two days.
I put my head on your shoulder
and you tell me we turned the wrong way.
my protector, you've seen me grow -
"but for the grace of God, there go I."