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What are you waiting for?
Down highway 75 there's a dot followed by a dust trail.
If you look hard enough you'll find a bard with a banjo he can't play, and a muse he named Steve.
But that's not really his name.
Steve's at the wheel, the boy-bard is just keepin the sun out of his eyes with a thatched straw hat
commenting on the haphazard state of broader topics of great importance
like sex laws, belief, summoning true love, and where to find the best hot pork tender sandwich.
That's where this adventure ends, but we're concerned with the middle. In an old cadillac named Bluis... alright, not so much a cadillac, more like a 2 door hoopty box with oversized wheels and too much airborne mischief.
I'm not playing Bo Duke because my ass keeps catching on the dry sundamaged paint. But today, I'll be a poet, and see how far I get with that before I get bored.
