Calm Turbulence

Route 51, no shoulder light,

gravel counting under his shoes tonight,

props in both hands,

a deck and three balls,

four miles out where the Riverside calls.

I still know every step by heart,

every crack in the road,

every stop and start,

the truck lights pass but I don't look back — I still

know every step by heart.

Mile three now, and the cards stay dry,

he could turn around,

let the tip jar die,

but his hands remember what his mind forgets

— the trick that never quite worked out yet.

Four miles of dark and a Friday sign,

he's walked it wrong and he's walked it fine,

one more mile till the

sign shows

— he still knows every step,

he still knows.

Twenty-eight years old, five years too late,

still not the man who walks away straight

— he chose the road instead of the door,

and that's the trick he keeps doing more.

I still know every step by heart,

every crack in the road,

every stop and start,

the same old set,

the same old part — I still know every step by

heart.

Every step by heart...

every step by heart...