living alone is lurid at times with
the constant inner discourse, impossible din of conversation
my breathing is loud and the air conditioner thunderous
artificial coolness
a slow cowgirl song to drown things out
such as wondering was it my fault
drove to this album
along the river
through mountains
I mean right through the middle of a mountain
mom asleep in the seat beside me

leo kottke, a storm, and two star crunches. Story-telling
one year ago summer meant start over
work over the grief of a double-broken heart
now today in the car its your dad
who's collapsed
lightning on a vertical axis across the sky
play that song again
to hear its beginning and its ending
no good to wish-
'would that I could'
rain so hard (and breathing)
so that I can't
see in front of me.
repeatedly