Sometimes while driving home
I’ll see a great shoehorn in the sky.
Sometimes while driving home
I’ll see a cloth of clouds
polishing over that high bluff and rock,
as if it were getting a good shine.
Sometimes while driving home
I will remember
how I polished my dad’s shoes
when I was a child.
He paid fifteen cents a shoe.
I thought it was a good deal
then and I still do now.
He even adjusted for inflation.
I got a nickel more every year,
and then it became a dime.
Then sometimes I’ll be driving home
and think
how the mountain and the man
have become the same.
In winter
the vineyards
of western Pennsylvania
are entangled
brown and wiry
arms over shoulders,
chorus girls
dancing down
the line.
|
Sitting back like an astronaut I look up into a light that shines like the shell of an oyster. I see Lori my dental hygienist appear on the horizon of my mouth. She is wrapped in gear and her small tool is singing like a chainsaw only from many octaves away. She is the only one I know who can work in pajamas and get away with it. |
Later, walking out, |
My little yellow lab
six months old
dives into dark water
fetches tree limbs
as thick and long
as a man’s arm,
gets back out
walks like a wrestler
his little jellybean
eyes
burning,
his ear flaps
slapping
the sides
of his head
like two
wallets
happily
spending.
Being with Suzanne
dancing the tango slowly
across the room.
She puts her hands on my chest,
I guide with my weight,
leaning forward and back.
We are like a dandelion seed
that never seems to land.
Travelling with Willy!