Sometimes I daydream that 
I have some cute little coffee-shop apartment, 
with a concrete pad 
where you come and park your RV.
You stop by in the spring time
and we sit at the kitchen table
talking philosophy.
We spend the nights together, 
you hang out for the summer, 
then leave in the winter
and come back again when the weather is better.

Sometimes I daydream that 
you have a corner somewhere 
on the edge of some mountainous tract.
where there's a darling little cabin
'round the way near the back.
And that's where I stay
when I come for the winter  
to snuggle by the fire, 
and we run around naked in the 
cold, cold woods
like a couple of wild
children.

Sometimes I daydream that 
I move to some boring
little town
where nothing much ever happens,
and I finally settle down.
Into a small one bedroom cottage
with a spot in the driveway
meant just for your 
RV. 
You come stay for a couple of weeks
in the springtime and help with my garden.
Then sometime in the summer 
you pack up to spend the cold months with Anna.

Sometimes I daydream
of one morning in September.
where I make breakfast and you help pack my bags,
I tell you I love you and that I'm gonna miss you,
and promise I’ll come visit 
next summer. 

Sometimes I daydream that 
instead of taking turns visiting each other
for a couple of days, or a couple of weeks
or a couple of years at a time
for the rest of our life,
we settle down
somewhere in the middle, 
and you and I 
find 
some kind
of way
to grow old 
together.