Hearing voices, he takes a trip
The female attendant in coveralls
favors his Mother.
She smiles. “Follow the trees.”
So Jay does, tipping her
as he starts the car. A big,
yellow Buick his Daddy left him.
Mud from somewhere, unsaid.
Then he drives off. Follow the trees,
Jay. Apples, he recalls.
An ancestor of his planted apples
along this route. Brown cores
from sacks on his back.
Carefully seed in straight rows.
A Swedenborgian.
An entrepreneur. And it’s true, really,
he wore pots on his head,
holes in them.
Pockets from being so full.
Jay plugs in his laptop
at the motel. Checks e-mail
for the third time. “Error Decoding Body.”
Jay turns off the television.
He bangs his wife
smelling of apples, his Mother.
He showers with the new green soap.