I'd like to go walking some spending night - you know, one of those nights that are warm all night long. I'd like to walk. With someone. Walk for an hour, to a place where you can barely hear or see anything. Climb a hill and sit. Look at the stars. I'd like to hold their hand. I'd like to smell the grass and the flowers blooming in the field, And know I was in the center of the entire country, In the very center of the united states, and towns all around and highways away off, But nobody knowing we're right there on top of that hill, in the grass, Watching the night.And just holding his hand would be good. Can you understand that? Do you know that holding someone's hand can be the thing? Such a thing that your hands move while not moving. You can remember a thing like that. Rather then any other thing about a night, All your life. Just holding hands can mean more. I believe it.
When everything is repeated over and over, and its familiar, it's the first things rather then the last that count.
So for a long time, I'd like to just sit there, not saying a word. There aren't any words for a night like that. We wouldn't even look at each other. We'd see the lights of the town far off and know that other people had climbed other hills before us, and that there was nothing better in the world. Nothing could be made better; all the houses and ceremonies and guarantees in the world are nothing compared to a night like this.
The cities and the people in the rooms in the house in those cities at night are one thing; the hills and the open air and the stars and holding hands are something else..
And then finally, without speaking, the two of you will turn your heads inthe moonlight and look at each other. And so you're on a hill, all night long, Is they're anything really wrong with this? Can you honestly say there is anything wrong?
No, said a voicethe only thing wrong on a night like that is that there is a world and you must come back to it.
