you turned to me and asked me if i'd always be your boy    as we drove across the river into western illinois    and on the railroad bridge, half a mile of solid steel    wheels were spitting out sparks, scraping at the rails    wind in your hair all right sunset spilling through the rear window    your white t-shirt hugging your shoulders, beaded with sweat    on the day that i become so forgetful that all of this melts away    i will burn all the calanders that counted the years down to such a worthless day       as we walked across the parking lot toward the motel office    we were walking with a benediction on us    light was everywhere, the building stood against the sky    like a monument to desperation 2 floors high    a mile and a half from the river we went back to the car to get our overnight bags sunset spilling through your earrings, all over your body    when we shut the motel door behind us, we knew we'd hit the motherlode    on the day that i forget you, i hope my heart explodes