and then I want to go there
there where the green running deep
by the hearth
and there where my earth smells virgin
after the first rain
walking there naked feet
and rain dripping from my hair
I want to sit on the roots of old banyan tree
remembering the immature fascinations of first love
and dream about those eyes and hidden smiles of
secret recognition
and then I want to taste the first gulp of smoke
and the bitterness of country made liquor
then I want to sing aloud
on the way back to my home, another folk song
drunken and sleepy I want to lie down
on the cold cement floor of my sweet home
then I want to sleep, never to wake up again
and not to go anywhere else again
but to my reserved six feet.