Flashback poem: “What makes a poor baby older than a rich one?”

Writing to an old favorite

on the cassette player

I remember back to when I first heard

this-

I was hitch-hiking ocean to ocean

stopped at my buddy’s house in St. Paul

for a couple days

and it was there

in the morning

where I had played this and typed

from the kitchen

table

I had a lot of country to still make

before the east coast

but right where I was

was fine and the typer was old

but smooth

and freshly oiled

quiet as hell

I had the place to myself for 4 hours that morning

It was

nicer

there.