Nebraska...
your God damned straight line roads,
your mile after mile after mile.
Nebraska...
the locusts smashing
against the windshield
one after another,
the old testament and the theory of evolution
exploding right in my face.
Nebraska...
how i celebrated as i crossed your border.
Nebraska...
yelled for five minutes.
Nebraska...
punched the ceiling of my old Ford till my knuckles turned black and blue.
Nebraska...
nothing but your Jesus fearing transmissions colonizing every radio wave for hours.
Nebraska,
watching the lightning hit fifty miles off with not a cloud in the sky.
Nebraska...
i know why they fear you.
Nebraska...
i swear i respect you.
Nebraska...
screaming for five minutes as i crossed into Colorado
looking, and smelling and seeing everything
just the same, but at least it wasn't
Nebraska...
Nebraska...
Nebraska...
The shit smeared on the walls of that last truck stop.
The flatness.
The nothing but to just get across.
Nebraska,
it's really nothing personal,
and i know i'm not a romantic
of the landscape,
just a city boy
passing my way through,
but i'd rather they
bury me standing
then have to
turn around
and
see you.
March 1999, Flagstaff - Arizona
