On Friday, I wrote this post about music to avoid on your way to work--especially when you have meetings.
This morning, in spin class, I thought of another class of music to avoid before work: the gotta go, gotta ramble, you're a great gal, but I'm not a guy who stays in one place for long. Is there a female counterpart? I don't hear those songs often, if not at all.
We spun away to the Marshall Tucker Band's "Can't You See." You remember it from long ago. It includes this nugget, which will now be in my head all day:
"I'm gonna buy a ticket, now
As far as I can
Ain't a-never comin' back
Ride me a southbound
All the way to Georgia, now
Till the train, it run out of track"
So, even though my work day is not that onerous, I sit here at my desk, dreaming of southbound trains and driving west--well, driving north up the peninsula of Florida, and then driving west. Interstate 10 goes a long way. It's a big continent.
It's imagery that speaks to me, clearly. Awhile ago, I posted "Boxcar Dreams" in this post about riding the rails. And awhile ago, I came back to the idea of covered wagons and that journey west in a poem that begins this way:
During boring meetings, I sketch
covered wagons and sod houses.
I make lists of my possessions:
what would an immigrant need
and what could be jettisoned?
There's more to this poem, but it goes off in a different direction, and I still have hopes that it could be published elsewhere, and I don't want to jeapordize that by publishing it here.
I will try to focus my brain on the legitimate trips that are coming up, so that maybe it will shake loose of this fantasy of driving until the road runs out. I'll remind myself of the aches and pains that come with that kind of trip. I'll calculate the gas costs. I work on my paper that I'll be soon presenting for the College English Association. I'll make sure the Spring schedule is good to go.
Or maybe I'll compose my own gotta go, gotta ramble poem . . .
What I Did On My Summer Vacation
3 months ago