The Lesser Beauty

I stand in America's fields
Wheat sways, sun sets, sun bleeds
All is healed: the children sleep
The pigs bled, cows been fed
I cannot stay here
Out in the fields
This wealth doesn't quench my thirst
But that's OK–I've directions
To a pool of clear water
Where you can drink till you burst:
Out past electric fences
Truck stops and frozen trees
Where the freeways end
And city lights begin
Pass through crooked streets
Locked doors, whores and leathermen
Empty bottles, empty bars, empty pipes
Black-outs and pointless fights
Walk south of the steel mills
To Fergus Park
You'll find a shallow pool
In a meadow of apple trees
The meadow reminds you of fields
You drink your thirst
Over there in American fields
It's too vast, there's no contrast
Fergus Park's bounded by dirty streets;
I'm happiest where opposites meet