This Poem was Submitted By: Jim W. Hitching On Date: 2000-12-17 22:31:07 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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American Hurtland

Your ring is in the kitchen drawer You tell me you don't want it or You'll sell it at that old pawn shop Called American Hurtland The neighbours in this cheap motel are A-drinkin' rye in their neon hell: Thin walls tell me They understand the pain - American Hurtland The freeway shakes the ice machine: Your memories kiss my broken dreams, And all the kindness that I planned Is now a part of American Hurtland Our little guy still loves me yet He told you dad weren't hard to get When Truckstop Tonya took his hand; That's dad's two-timin' harvest from American Hurtland Your ring is in the kitchen drawer You tell me you don't want it or You'll sell it at that old pawn shop Called American Hurtland...American Hurtland

Copyright © December 2000 Jim W. Hitching

Additional Notes:
"Dad weren't" in the second last verse. Bad grammar maybe - but it's a child speaking; and "wasn't" would be two syllables and a bad fit! More like a song than a poem - but I don't play guitar!


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