springtime at the old home

are we flying everyone in tonite?...to this lonesome field full of the moonlight...and you sit and wonder, talking to old friends and enjoying the first signs of spring...you pet the dog, have a sip of beer from the bottle...bought on the cheap...the way it should be...you sit and listen...to the trials, tragedies, and memories of a fellow fighter...a fellow existor that you have known since kindergarten...since the days of rainbows, sunshine, and bliss...since the days of destruction...the crickets are sounding, the birds are chirping, and you are living...(damn! you are actually living!)...on the front porch...overlooking the hazy jersey mountains, overlooking glassy lakes...hearing the dull rumble of the union pacific on the western wind...here you are in the middle of it all without a notion, without a thought...it is you and the night, you and the day, you and your piecemeal reality...so another bottle of beer and another old story from another old friend won't do you any harm...spring has sprung, the world is yours, and it is alright...