Commencement Address for the Deindustrialized Dispersion
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If the grey morning finds you,
Strange and cold in some great Northern city
Shoes slick and black in the slush
The tires hushing spray
Please think upon those slow days
In the long green arms of the river
If, at the end of your workday
You find upon your tongue a barren dialect
And the sheetrocked boxes you increasingly call home
Feel, somehow, both dead and new
Chase the sweet stink of downtown, and let spill forth
The honeyed words of your raising
May we all grow old and free
And wander home again
If homeward odes take wing from your lips
To flutter down dead onto a plywood stage
And the red-clay soil you swore you'd die for
Hasn't touched your feet in weeks
Repent of your pride and your worry
Remember to ride, like your home folks said, and
May we all grow old and free
And wander home again