Or, who says you need a pencil and paper to write poetry?
Right where we
Were today
St. Ignacious
Pre-Fire Eruption
Academy of Science
Somersaults back
Into the Valley
Can’t tell exactly
Where I am except
For right here:
Play center, manufactured
Fun looks through my
Squinted eyes like a prison
Metaphor unfolds
Before me
Wal-mart
Tract homes
Flat, withered
Terrain, once green
Yellowed now
Look for clues
And find nothing
Turn my head
To read backwards
Facing highway
Signs as they are
All I can see next
To the John Deere
And bright Oleander
Old headstones dot
A lawn in Ripon
I wonder what words
Are inscribed and
What people live and
Die in that place,
Right there, where
I drive past, it lies
Untouched by my hands
Small town, proud
Of your history?
Does he or she or
You or them enjoy
Your life here?
I am traveling
Through. I hope
You are well.
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