A road can't be as sad as a shoe is sad when a shoe can't read. I can't read either. And I have given away all my clothes and gone away so far that no one will even remember that I've gone nor how far I went when I was here. For a road can't be as crazy as a ranch is mad when a ranch can't sing. I cough. I spit. I jump up and down and I run around like a headless rooster. Me too. I am not lonesome. I am gregarious. I make friends with the curbstone even. But a shoe can't be as pretty as a wheel when it's turning or a tunnel uncovered by chance. And a shoe can't be a lobster. I am as free as a belt or a bell or a dog on a leash gone crazy with the aroma of flagpoles.