October 27, 2014


Way out here,
on the edge of nothing,
where everyone comes
from Somewhereland,
I keep checking
my rearview mirror, 
until I see someone
traveling near.

I seem to know him
better than I know myself,
I tell him to go 
while he still can,
all the way back
from where he came,
before the sun 
sets on his name.

I'm slowing down now,
no one's following in my wake.
He's passed me by,
with a plan for his escape,
but I know better
from where I stand;
no one gets out
of Nowhereland.