he said let’s move to pennsylvania.
we got a house there and acres of
forest to hide in. across the road is
the little brokenstraw where we can
fish and skinny dip. they used to stock
it with trout. he knew i had a thing
for amish boys so he told me about
them too. that made me prick up my
ears. he knew how to get me
interested. phoenix was hot and
getting crazy. to many unimportant
people running in the streets.
unimportant people causing wars.
they steal from poor people. kill
people for reasons to kill people. i
chased all the wild horses i needed to
chase. was tired of looking for shade
under a saguaro cactus. if i was a
poet for all seasons i need all of
winter, all of summer, spring, and fall.
trees letting go of their leaves, every
tiny snowflake having its own smile, a
spring chorus of peepers, laying belly
up in kentucky bluegrass counting
faces in a night sky. it would mean
saying goodbye to kelly. she is blond
magic that makes me feel important.
allowed my poetic license. we drove
four or five days, stopping in omaha
to see his friend, diane. back to the
place i left twelve years ago. where i
drank scotch and water from quart
pickle jars. i sacrificed poems i lost
cause i didn’t write ‘em down. poems
not worth the time i wasted thinking i
was a bohemian. a prophet of the
queer underground. a sassy twink
growing old. now i feed the bluejays
and the hawks. scrape ice from
cracked glass and dance like a
pennsylvania hermit writing poetry.