Let’s go to Nebraska, where no one wants to go.
We could drink whiskey until the lights go out
and stumble into the dirt street mumbling
And after that we could sit in the dark, touching
since we couldn’t see. And I would say your name,
because when you answered, I would see you there
trusting and poor.
Maybe we could start a farm. We would grow
everything that doesn’t need water. We could starve
in our shack, and when the rain finally came
it would pour right through the roof.
We could get bitter. We could curse our friends
and neighbors. We could pick fights with salesmen
passing by. We could blame the government, and
Mr. Purcell at the bank.
Let’s build a fence with splinters so anyone
who touches it gets hurt. Let’s get a dog that
bites us and keep him in the yard in case anyone
thinks to visit.
And after that we could turn to crime. We could
rob anything you can think of, and kill anyone you like
and then throw the money in the street. We wouldn’t
need it because by then they’d be after us.
Maybe we could find an abandoned warehouse
to have the big stand-off. They’d know
we were there. They’d feel it.
We would make a lot of widows,
and orphans too I guess.
I’d kiss you before my blood ran out into the cracked
dry ground, and take as many with me as I could,
because they didn’t know how I love you
and that should cost them something.