Frisco

Frisco

Way up in Frisco, I lean against a car window with stranger’s eyes
People say they don’t notice I’ve changed, but I can see it
In the golds and the grays, in the looking ahead and the reaching back,
In the way the noise has learned to fall away
Into the quiet of my mind. There are details of other lives
I could have lived, houses where I could have cut melons,
Had my secret places. Cesarean scars all over this city
of births I could have witnessed. The hills go up and down
Like great sighs. An hour passes and the astonished fog leans back into the sun.
Everyone longs for puppy shouts of love’s excitement.
The air is damp and cold, and I am so hungry.
I spelled out your name in the fog of a cab window,
Zipped up my hoodie to my chin, full of diplomas
Professing my legitimacy and muscle aches from too much love passed by.
No deaths or separations today,
No applauded poems in me to be written or read.
Even the ever illusive river or whiskey that whistles me Dixie seems strangely dry.
I watch a cat follow something it wants into a crawlspace under a house,
And I think if I might follow something with that fervor,
It would simply be to lay down with you together in some way tonight.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s