There’s urban romance. And there’s a train that’s about to leave at 5:17 p.m. Ignoring the damn twilight and damn lovers who’ll not see each other for the next seven months. The damn lovers. The damned lovers.
There’s the jeep ride in the rain. There are hills and surreptitious kisses. There’s a feeling of not knowing. There is a fallen tree and memories. There’s that car and Bobby McGee. There’s a red bandana and untold stories.
There’s a missing girl. There are lost jobs and letters. There are days of inexplicable insanity. There’s that day of finally meeting someone who understands.
There’s a lot of on the road stuff. A lot of guitar, poetry and cigarettes… There are days of reckless abandon and carefree love-making. There are days of experience and loss.
There’s Bob Dylan and then there’s that square country girl. There are days of wishing and hoping. And there are conversations and bonfires galore.
There’s a new city. There is a new song. There are different things to see, and STD phone-calls to be made to anxious parents. Photographs there are many.
There’s a distant land. It sometimes surprises pleasantly, sometimes disappoints. It tells us the true meaning of homesickness.
There’s a date that lurks near. There is a station platform and a-come –on –in -just –this-once goodbye.
There’s urban romance. And there is a train that’s about to leave at 5:17 p.m.
