I MAY HAVE
How I may have mayhem'd the bottom I do not
know : my sleeves were driving to Towanda, just
entering the Endless Mountains in some Pennsylvania
daydream when I thought of you. I was struggling -
this most certainly pulled me back to a fresh attention.
-
Like a medieval portrait of some sniveling princeling
looking back in disdain at what then passed for a mirror :
a boy so like a girl, no real distinction between them.
My own eyes stayed, shiftless, on the road; a few weird
settlements, places where people lived with their cows.
-
I guessed that I was tired enough to bleed right from my
eyes. Isn't that why they get red? Alongside the roadway,
at her RFD mailbox, some farmgirl had stretched. I was
stolen again - she had the fulsome body of something
I just had to touch. Yet, singularly, and alone, I moved
along. These are some sorts of Currier and Ives scenes
that even the barber shops never witness.
-
Here then instead, I sit me down at some awful place
named 'Theo's Alaskaway Eats'. Route 6, westbound for
sure. Way out nowhere. What this fellow must have
been thinking when he named his dumpy joint, I'll
never understand. I order jackrabbit stew? You
say that's my only choice.
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