Ã¯Â»Â¿PULLED OFF THE JERSEY TURNPIKE I SEE THE GIRLS I LOVED
In a dump at a wood's edge I stand in front of an open refrigerator rusting bullet holes in its door
girls I went to highschool with standing in their sears housecoats now wrapt in what movie scent? looking look down the lighted food shelves behind the mil carton / the juice carton
behind the juice / they've forgotten what was wanted and all their lives they will drop knives and forks
into this silence
FOR KELLY'S (PREFIX: (FINDING THE MEASURE)
Finding the center of the self long ago laid by
AT J.D. SCOTT'S CROC. IN LOVE.MISS.
at the congress
of three cottonpatches
along the rails to memphis
the grocery leans
towards the gravel that glints
a galaxy of bottlecaps
the ancient negro lady,
having fetched the boychild
tethering his hand with hers,
lifts her right foot
as she surfaces, a gaping diver, resiliant
from the green density
into the coolness
into the dark orchard
of the store
to hear the grocer
gamelegged, swollen, enthroned
on a tractorseat,
her soul's creditor,
complaining about his feet.
my fingers move beneath the electric pulse, the pull of the field of your skin. They feeL
There is no specific time.
in which we waver, suspended far from roots
is akin to us. It has no choice.
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS
"Whatcha doin'?" says the father saturday-afternoon game-o-the-week libation in hand as hippie-dippie son home for the holidays avails himself of mother's bread and meat "Makin a sandwich?"
the thrashing wind.
Side-burned son says nothing continues spreading mayonaise.
THINGS FOR HE AND SHE
151 S. LIME
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