Drifter

As I breathe in the heavy, summer air, and wipe the stinging sweat out of my eyes, I pause to dream…
Sometimes I wish I could fade away into obscurity… Perhaps trade in my name for another…
Maybe I could become a faceless drifter; doing menial, mindless jobs from town to town…
I could finally learn to play that dusty guitar in the corner…
I would travel west until I finally escaped the dreaded humidity…
I would pack up all my regrets in a polka-dotted handkerchief at the end of a pole, and just walk…
Sometimes I wish I could live in my trashy, transient dreams…