My high school friend,
the only one I’m still in touch with,
has been drifting from town to town
in country with very few people,
but overfilled with stark beauty

He’s been doing this for many years
in his shelter with wheels
He was just outside of Belle Fourche,
or maybe it was Medicine Bow,
when I last heard from him

I’ve never asked him
what he could possibly be looking for
out there on the backroads of the West

It doesn’t seem like the kind of question
you should ask in a text or a phone call,
but I like to think it’s the wandering
that he has found.