When I drive up
to Cottonwood
to see you,
89 miles one way
and your'e not there,
I could kill you, Lewis.
I could strangle you
with my bare hands.
How dare you
disappear and not
tell a soul, not leave
a clue. Where
could you go, Lewis?
If I were you, where would I go?
If I were you, Lewis, I'd stay put.
I'd stay put and wait for me to come.
I'm the best thing you've got.
I'm the only thing
willing to drive up
to Cottonwood,
89 miles one way
just to see you.
At the stupid,
run down auto shop
where you work,
nobody will tell me anything.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem