Teeth that have ground through solid steel engines.
And a gravel dust beard.
Eyes that burned a thousand supernovas just to shine.
Feet that marked their way across a sea of restlessness.
But no name.
No name that I can say.
I wish I knew what to call you.
This spirit that’s wrestled its way around all my organs.
A gypsy heart.
A wanderin spleen.
Hobo hip bones.
But the sume
All of it added together
I can’t seem to be able to name.
All I know is where I’ll find it.
Out on the road
Out where that spirit was born.