Foreign departures Leading to neon cities That are not here Through a blue window Standing at the gates looking At a bright future A far off land lives In ferns and this song that I Use to be with her Deep chimes sound, wood floors Creak, fire pops, and there are no Self pity whispers White freedom clatters In the driveway, connecting Dots of sin our life The outside’s inside, A ride at the park, fudge brown Jeep with kids in back Sweet smoke barbecue When mustangs zip above Old aces, eyes wide