Town

Remember that bar up the street,
parking lot teens, patio furniture,
crooked pine trees, broken architecture.
We glanced around, found the corner seat—
Was this the place no other could beat?
(Girls without groove, that gap-toothed creature,
the smell of stale cigarettes and wheat
beer on my shoe.) We had no closure
with friends we found. We now forgot
how many miles of dirt we fought
through to be here—this quiet town
bypassed so many times. Meandering around
vacant ranches at midnight just to find
a point where the road unwinds. 

Bad Weather

We hid in a bathroom
when the lighting came

          it smelt like horses
          and muggy rain

the hay caught my boot
and I imagined a good day
      
          befriending dogs
          and strangers

making the most of it
knowing we could not stay.

I Saw a Canoe

Inside was a man eager
to escape and I asked if I could
take him where he wanted to go.

"Can you leave a poor man alone?"

he shouted turning with disgrace

then whistled away—those rotting cheekbones.

The echo turning me back to the porch
in darkness where I saw no trace
of a man or a boat ever going.

Proximity

Left with spaces that lay between

your eyes, connecting dots around, 

trying to imprint them in mine— 

Be a photographer. Keep it. 

Store on a shelf to catch the dust—

the perfume, the flesh in your cheeks.

Wait for the hues to saturate, 

the streaks of stringy blonde to fade.