Monday, October 3, 2011

Things Stay... As They Are



Things Stay... As They Are

Steamy autumn horses...
ghost-white
grazing cattle
a hundred miles
short of lush mountain grass.

The way you
tremble
as your hands
reach for my shoulders...
before our first kiss.

Boarded up stores,
dawn-rosy stone,
sweat-soaked
cheap white cotton sheets....

The rumble of semi trucks
bearing basalt pillars
to listless towns.
Decorative rock
for the exitless:
turds of the Budget
Management Task Force.

Drizzle.  Fractured fence posts.
The dog wants you to walk him.
The bite of a week's separation.
Yeah, the hack-novelist
paperbacks are for the airport.

A pile of sagebrush
lit with a wooden match
to crumpled newspaper
sheets, ads for running shoes.
Quick, hot fire...
fragrance of guitar music.

Yeah, if a dog
looks at me from a car window,
I always wave to it.
Bedrock good manners, right?

The stumble-tongue words
of front porch farewells
are less than romantic.



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