Wednesday, March 28, 2012

stillwater, oklahoma

These people are fishes swimming in a sea of heat
drinking it up. Daylight drinks are done well,
or light, not done up. I feel doomed
to follow you there,
dudes. I wish I was with
my lady friend, my sanely friend.
But your hospitality
is mead-hall worthy, and the sway
in the leaves matches it.

I could tell her about this
instead the bottom of these multitudinous glasses
which, if melted,
would cover these dusty tables nicely.

Calling from Stillwater, Oklahoma
where buckles are big and hair is short
and the heat flows
from the great gas spigot in the sky
and I am a dog listening to all the whistles,
where there is more hospitality than I want or need,
liquid hospitality, that is,

and I think about my far gone woman
probably asleep before me,
how I would like blushingly to hold her hand here
and say look darlin how good
they treating me
fighting hard not to feel scared.

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