How refreshing it is to be

A sunlight gypsy,

a moonbeam wayfarer

don't bother looking for me at home.

Gone Mobile.



Gasoline is Lethe,

baptizing, cleansing,

the taste of oil

newborn

inside your lungs.



Sweet piston powered providence.



To dance beneath the long cold sky,

the frostbitten mistress,

is akin to

nothing.



Bo Diddly started the world

for nomads

fresh babes

always cautious of setting down roots.



Far better to be a stray cat

than an owned dog.

Unburdened by heavy ties

to earth and town

free to blow along the Gypsy Wind.



Home is an abstract concept

behind the tumbleweeds

a state of mind rather than a half acre

enticing you to remain stationary.



Silhouette yourself by the terminal,

the hitchhikers thumb,

don't call to your brothers,

sunlight gypsy,

stray away from the familiar.



Hear the Bo Diddly beat

sing with chaos;

addresses are overrated.



Take flight tonight,

angle headed wanderer

and fly along the Gypsy Wind.