albany and back in poetry

thirty miles of driving rain
I’m only half-way home
a stack of scratched CDs
otherwise in here alone
just mudflap splash and thunder
cops won’t let you use the phone
thirty miles of driving rain
I’m only halfway home

thirty miles of pouring rain
here comes the flood again
counting down the mile posts
still grasping at the sane
this old haunted head of mine
ghosts rapping at the panes
thirty miles of pouring rain
here comes the flood again

thirty miles of beating rain
thirty more still to go
I think there’ll be a home there
but who am I to know
things change so fast these sad days
the odds seem pretty low
thirty miles of beating rain
thirty more still to go