|
Back of A Truck |
people in the back of a truck
singing
harvest is in—
there’s a bonus
people in the back of a truck
weeping
the border is closed
the village is gone
I’m too far away
to see exactly
what is happening
as if I were hovering
over my own form
in a fugue state
or over the snow-capped
Rocky Mountains
in a smallish plane
I’m seeing
the map
of the city I was born in
as if it were
an acupuncture chart
of the human body
I’m sitting in someone else’s
garden, with blossoming ecinacea,
tiger lilies, white cabbage moths
I’m drinking beer
with every woman
you ever loved
and admiring
how they’ve aged
and yet seem young
as to what ails me
time cannot cure it
for the past, present, and future
will not even try
I’m in the back of a truck
with a corpse and a sucking child
with my toll money ad my exit visa
and my love of the road.
copyright 2017
Miriam
Sagan |
