I’m lonely but I’ve been pretty busy and I’m trying to stay optimistic and be good to people despite my irritation with things lately.
When I was twelve years old,
my dusty yellow labrador found a femur bone in the woods behind my house,
a bone with a little bit of flesh still clinging on,
but dried for the most part.
And I didn’t think anything of it,
when I thought he must have found the leg
of a deer that had died a while ago.
Until two men came to my door wearing suits and holsters,
held up a photograph
and said “Have you seen this person?”
I told them I had not,
and noticed how dry my mouth felt,
like cotton mushed against the roof of my mouth
and against the back and tops of my teeth.
Wedging my foot in the door was not enough
to keep them out,
they would make their way inside,
and they would not find a deer.
There was a cross country runner from Eastern Oregon University,
he wore a gold and black uniform,
the number fifty-nine on the front
that bounces up and down as he steps over branches and leaves.
October 1985 -
He’s running and passes number seventy-four
Whose hair is dried out from the heat,
and lack of moisture,
looking like a tumbleweed
worn as a wig.
Two days before the race,
Space Shuttle Atlantis left Earth for the first time.
Number fifty-nine’s feet lift from the ground
as if they will join Atlantis.
Fifty-nine wins the race.