19 Aug 2014, 2:11pm

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San Bernardino

I want to be somewhere different
Rummaging towns with you
Down there in South America
Or to the west of america
All the Old ghost towns
Where people have abandoned things
I want to walk up and see what’s what
On the walls do they have signs pointing
To a heritage
Or do the individuals matter
Do they demand
That they matter
The writer’s desk that the writer sat up from
when he discovered that the world was a bigger place than he was
I want to know that

I started with a creative drawing:
Elizabeth Barrett Browning walking down the stairs
Of a modern day split level where kids are playing Atari
on a Saturday morning
Wearing Pooh and Tigger pajamas
And she decides to make some pancakes because
The sun is up, why not
The sun is in her hair and there is
In the negligence of the light,
A certain apparition, and foreboding:
The story will not get written

But what about our story
You and I and our trip to Peru,
Portland Oregon
So many places were waiting for us
Why did we not go there
If given a chance I would redo that part
My friend and his new wife are now riding horses across Mongolia
What a story
We could have that too
Couldn’t we

I am sick of all this leaving
Thinking that we’ll live out our retirement
in a potash facility outside Trona, some dump
where granddaddy longlegs climb up rusting water pipes
And nobody does anything all day but listen to noise

What would you do or tell me what works for you, what do you hear

Do these kids drink from hoses
Do they ride their bikes in the air, in the desert
I hear the collective wind come alive with the sound of bike chimes
And I wonder
If that’s what we’re missing

If dust is dust, we’re good for that
I could go on all day about the ash, beautiful flowers
The look of it in your hair, on your hands
It’s all enough
So what were we worried about?

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