so long

So long grasslands.
So long badlands.
So long sweet respite from salty tears.
I'll call you all tomorrow
and a few miles down the road.
It's there that you can find me,
on the Santa Monica pier.

So long old home.
So long known roads.
So long stepping stool to things out of reach.
I'll write you all on Tuesday
when these spaces have been crossed.
At the end there you can find me
on the shores of Venice beach.

So long past life.
So long sad wife.
So long to the girl I've been 'til this day.
I'll see you all again some time
once this trip has come to a close.
And, then, there you can find me
on the mighty streets of LA.

I heard, "Oh come back, come back where you belong."
I said, "I'm sorry, Mama. I won't be home until I'm gone."