Home | Site Index | Contact | About | Legal | Links | Discussions

I have to get to Texas.

There’s a man waiting for me.

I can hear him calling,

but it might be from Tennessee.

The call is dry and deep

Gravel grating from the heat

I might have the wrong continent

We might never meet.

I can almost smell his tobacco

I sense his eyebrow lift

I have to hope the continents

Still have urge to drift

I have to get to Texas

Or just the Klein Karoo.

Open spaces

Open faces

Not one face like you.

Words © Mia de Jager
Image © Henk Esterhuizen