Happiness is, something
the boys in each small town
dream of and drink away
when they remember
the distance from bed
to the drive, and walk out
the door to go to work,
and find themselves.
And each day
they keep asking
them self "how
did I get here?"
I see them standing
by roads and wonder
when my turn will come.
We were born into small towns,
little rickets in prehistoric bones;
a poor man's museum curiosity.
