Mohawk Trail

Asians on the French King Bridge
Photographing foliage
I know it better for
Jumpers 

First Impression

Wake to confining thoughts
the taste of paint
memories of cold feet and hands
and the feeling that it will be this way
until death

Dead Flag Blues

Pleasure Palace

They had a doll there you could touch for three dollars.
A whole session would cost you 40.
They had a 300 dollar cash deposit policy,
Insurance against deep gouges and stab wounds.

Ushering

There went Summer.

Chilly night, closing the slider, using the blankets,
   waking with sore throat in cold air,
   blue jays foretelling Winter.

Their cries travel all the way down my memory.

Got to think about oil now and tires again -
   tires always during no money times,
   and the black hollow that absorbs the light,
   removes all strength, turns you against
      you.

I'm not afraid but am hoping (a little)
   that this one will feel different from
   the last two.

Girl On A Plane

Seventeen
Saigon, Tokyo, Dallas, Boston
All alone on her way to boarding school
So brave, smart, determined, confident
Tiny
She starts a conversation and, during its course,
You imagine two worlds waiting for her
The first, she will master,
It is honest and kind, nurturing and fair
The second, will snap her up
You try to be a part of the first one

Roadside

Drove out of town this evening to a restaurant and bar. Two dollar margaritas during happy hour, boudin stuffed jalapeños, and a bowl of shrimp and grits with sausage and other good stuff in there. I liked the look and feel of the place, mostly empty. The music was good too. Contemporary country, I guess, but not the mostly shit I hear when spinning the radio dial in the car. It kind of set a mood, heartbreak songs.

I thought about the way you used to eat with such gusto and how watching you used to light me up inside. For a minute I had this idea that I lost you in the end because, in my head, I started saying things other than thank you.

Dallas-Fort Worth

"Caaaar please!"

Two notes. His voice is melodic, sounding to me like a soloist singing Gregorian chant across this busy airport terminal. I think he's Indian. I've heard him during the course of several trips lately driving his silent electric cart. Other drivers might jar your nerves with a horn or an authoritive tone, but this one adds something pleasant to the experience.