traveling metaphor #6
your asphalt grip is set to strangle me
the weight of 70 straight as an American flagpole
miles of hot August road
buckles
then sags under the weight of this afternoon's fist
your fingers long as legs and legs long as the dream
of last night
urban buzz and silent
insect dawn; there’s a headache awake in your skin
your skin as finely poured as the newest road in the
newest subdivision of my over populated old soul
your steamroller wrist is full of diesel veins
tracking heat between orange hands
like caution flags moving fast in the convection winds
and perfectly graded elbows moist
with oil
i’m wet under your sprinkler gaze
tickled like new grass roots
soft Ky31 (that's a mighty nice stand of ) fescue hairs
rising up to meet summer
let me breathe again as i travel just once
near your landscape
i promise
not to make you grow
too much.
--geo
notebook '03/'04
i think this was one i read at the Eno River Festival way back when
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