Jim
You looked Texas today
road hard, scrubbed brush, blown tires
gasoline islands
But later California returned—fortune’s poster child
radiating. Truck full of gas,
cheap camera in the glove compartment
stuffed toys on the dashboard,
beads on the steering wheel,
a pretty girl’s picture—fatherly devotion.
What is lost when love ceases
is the power to forget
the early sweetness, the late bitter
talk, the longing for renewal—we all want
Spring, but
Spring does not want us.
Persevere, the skies murmur. Persevere
you weeping poets. You funny beasts.
Hopeful and hurting breathing dragons’
magic fire. Dry seasons last much too long
which is why deserts are vast. Floods don’t help,
but days of chilly showers make for blossoms pink,
blue, violet. A soft evasion.
Drink from the lake’s glacial cup. Hope for better
winters.