Cincinnati 8/28/18
Hitchhiking from Estes Park, Colorado (where I had been a volunteer at Rocky Mountain National Park) to Palo Alto, California (where my college roommate Sarah Webster lived) inspired one of the few songs I’ve ever written. Hats off to Nevada, August 1972. (And everything off in Nevada!)
Goin’ Through Nevada
The road’s so straight, I feel like goin’ 90 miles an hour.
The air’s so thick, the furnace burns. And I desire a shower.
But home is slack; tonight is black, I pass up each Ramada.
Coyotes stare, my chest is bare, while goin’ through Nevada!
Nevada, who are you? Why do you capture me?
In sun-bright, moon-light, tumbleweed air,
With Carvel stands
And mines of tin
And old bandstands
And angel wind
None understands Nevada.
***
Each ride I get, I thank my thumb, no lift it ever squanders.
Another trip, a hope, a dream; my soul, my spirit wanders.
My mind’s so free, it wails like wind, from poetry to Dada.
Coyotes stare, my chest is bare, while goin’ through Nevada!
Nevada, who are you? Why do you capture me?
In sun-bright, moon-light, tumbleweed air,
With Carvel stands
And mines of tin
And old bandstands
And angel wind
None understands Nevada.
***
The stud’s so white, he’s out-a-sight, and I can’t stop lookin’.
He leans my way, then bumps his hips, and I know what’s cookin’.
I listen low, I wait my turn, I’ll never tell my Mama.
Coyotes stare, my chest is bare, while goin’ through Nevada!
Nevada, who are you? Why do you capture me?
In sun-bright, moon-light, tumbleweed air,
With Carvel stands
And mines of tin
And old bandstands
And angel wind
None understands Nevada.
***
They’ll never know what books I’ve read nor purity in merit.
I’ll never tell just who I am, or what I will inherit,
For now I’m dry, I never cry, I won’t wear my pajamas.
Coyotes stare, my chest is bare, while goin’ through Nevada!
Nevada, who are you? Why do you capture me?
In sun-bright, moon-light, tumbleweed air,
With Carvel stands
And mines of tin
And old bandstands
And angel wind
None understands Nevada.
***
VicWulsin 