Montana

I think it's about time I did some time in Montana.
I've heard of the pipes stuffed with tobacco
And the tired cattle and their tired masters
And the mountains and skies that roll on forever.


I want to shovel cattle and horse shit.
I want to eat thickly and heartily 3 times a day.
I want to bruise my hands with rope
And cut my jeans on rusty nails poking from wooden fences.
I want to go where no one knows me,
Where I don't have breathe the smog and tension of a million.
I want to go where everyone speaks my native tongue, but there's no one I have to speak to.
I want to go where I can wash myself clean in the snowy mountain runoff. 


Maybe someday I'll take time to do time in Montana.