1
Strong winds visit in the evening. Just the same as yesterday, we’re not home. The dying light renders strangers’ faces conveniently indistinct.
2
The gambling hells are crowded after dark. Everyone who has a lucky number has forgotten what it is. The black piano player plays on only the black keys.
3
Bird tracks cover the sky. My rifle jams at a critical moment. The last free Indians on the Plains nibble the grass. One of them, when I look again, is crunching bones. I try to believe we’re a democracy. The women pee standing up, the men sitting down.
4
The shops closed at noon. I hide behind a bush. Hats sail down the street. From now on, I’m going to define love loosely.
Strong winds visit in the evening. Just the same as yesterday, we’re not home. The dying light renders strangers’ faces conveniently indistinct.
2
The gambling hells are crowded after dark. Everyone who has a lucky number has forgotten what it is. The black piano player plays on only the black keys.
3
Bird tracks cover the sky. My rifle jams at a critical moment. The last free Indians on the Plains nibble the grass. One of them, when I look again, is crunching bones. I try to believe we’re a democracy. The women pee standing up, the men sitting down.
4
The shops closed at noon. I hide behind a bush. Hats sail down the street. From now on, I’m going to define love loosely.
Howie Good
http://jmwwblog.wordpress.com/2010/12/31/review-a-heart-with-a-dirty-windshield-by-howie-good-reviewed-by-robert-vaughan/
The Lost Art of Reading
David L. Ulin