Grand Junction

That punk with a mustache who brought us our breakfast
Never came back with the check.
On our third day of driving with no expectations
Except some vague sense of The West.

Our silence was stretched between nerves and the knowledge
The ring that she wore wasn't mine.
Because people get tired and they turn on each other and
The rivers run from the divides.
That night we drove into Grand Junction the lights were
Weeping and deep and divine.
She said I trust that we'll get somewhere safe by the storm
But I'm scared of the size of this sky.

Janie, I fear that our love from last year
Was a tenor that's hard to maintain.
Lost half what we had through a hole in the bag
And the cellophane won't take the blame.

If we stretch out our funds we can get through the month
But at some point there must come a time
That we sell something shipped from the wishes you list
For the guys that you talk with online.
She said mister if you're thinking that far ahead
Can you see where we live when we get to the end of this?
Besides you don't like when I lean on those kinds of friends.

It hurts being human
But our instincts will keep us alive.
We do what we do to survive.

On the next day of driving with no real direction
Except for the sunset out west.
She said I like having friends who check out and check in
So what if they send me some gifts?
In Grand Junction it seemed all the mountains were mocking
Our own little pitiful lives.
On the side of the road with her arms in the air
Amazed by the size of the sky.