Bury Me on Highway 231, Again

This road is sacred ground
from Panama City to Pell City
and even to Oneonta,
every mile, every inch,
I have traveled so many times.

I have seen the railroad underpass
on 90 flooded like the cement pond that it is,
I have shopped at Sikes and Kohns
and found them too expensive.

I have eaten at every truck stop
and barbeque joint between
Montgomery and Dothan.

This is the homeland road
this is the path of my life.

I spent 35 years far away,
but coming back to Compass Lake,
to Cottonwood and Campbellton
I felt like a train once again
placed on my own railroad track.

I no longer know anyone along this path,
my first girlfriend is buried there,
others, too, by now, but when
I turn the wheel and point it north
or south this bit of asphalt
floods my soul.