I have not learned to play guitar yet – I still imagine skateboarding along and through the many obstacles of the city when I am not driving – I keep a heard of butterflies whose only job is to flap until there is more necking in this world – I also keep several kinds of bugs with allergies – their job is to achoo randomly – I like surprises - I look up words to make sure they are what I mean – I have come to enjoy the diversity of flatulence – I imagine that you’re laughing
There is a magic to America – sandwiched between country music stations and mountain ranges – the loneliest highway is wonderful if you can bring a friend – I-35 a long lick between our collective cleavage from concrete jungles to redwood forests I have leaned my head back in stunned gazes – I have memorized voices, gleaned their meaning, and lost the words like leaves down river – everywhere I went I loved them – the hopeful, the angry, the crafters trying and trying again – you can still find them, open, opening and curious
I saw the people on the streets today - the wind adding its own cold sense of urgency - it whispered run or you will die outside - I tell you friends the wind has never lied to me
I Texas not Texan - I Texas State not UT - admirer of longhorns, who sometimes sweats burnt orange - fan of old cowboys and tigers - sparky and too tall - conceived in Grand Rapids - heart broken in Lansing - my families could be family if not for the similarity - I left the cold for a reason - and now the season has me
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