Thursday, March 31, 2011

The Man Who Lost Himself Rolling Dice

"Untitled," a Ciara Shuttleworth Painting

The Man Who Lost Himself Rolling Dice

A tremor of expectation: this is how bison burger
is delivered on Thursdays to a cafe's back door.

On the road to Tuscarora, she lied, I prefer
pleasure and sentiment to charming jewelry.

I hoped that she would say, You're a wonderful
lover-in-residence, but her car battery was dead.

And a few miles to the east in basalt country,
pioneer graves have rattlers that lazily rise at sunset.

If you really loved me, she sometimes drawls,
you'd be sick of yourself by the bucketsful.

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