by Chris Fuller
(for Warren Zevon)

We got off in Des Moines
At 11:38,
Just another Best Western
On the Great White Interstate,
Where the ribbon of the road
Meets the rhythm of the shoes,
As they tap their way through the slow decay
Of last year's daily news.

You danced across the screen,
You never left your chair,
When you bowed down to the Worrier King
You seemed so self aware.

Where the see through hand of God
Is swayin' to the beat,
Where The Plain Dealer is dancin'
In a cloud above the street,
And where the almighty broom
Finally swept the Dustbowl clean,
You came beeming into our room
In shades of pink and green.

By whose will have I been placed in this maze?
By whose design am I lost?
Have you ever done a search for me
Through the borders that I've crossed?