Tranter in America (audio only)
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What I had wanted was to be chaste,
sober and uncomfortable
for a sprawling episode on a beach somewhere
dirty, perennially out of fashion;
let the smell of cocoa butter drive deep memory wild
as the sun went down, a parti-colored blur,
examined through a bottle of pop
some kid gave up on only half-way through
and left to go warm in the sand.
The train ride would be long and hot,
and you, you’ve had it with men.
Me . . .
I’m sickened by the pronoun.
Tenderness seems as far away as Sioux City
2013