TEXAS

 

 

TEXAS

 

I dreamed of Texas

two weeks ago.

I was an outsider,

unknown.

I went to clubs

and lounged around

as a stranger.

I met some girls.

I avoided them.

They avoided me.

What was I thinking?

I waited for the dirigible.

It came--

but what?

It would not descend.

And then the airplane

at hundreds of miles an hour,

close to the ground

without wings.

I looked for the explosion,

but there was none.

The parking lot was crowded.

It was last call.

I stayed for another drink--

and tried to convince a girl

to come with me.

She said she would.

Her name was Nan Tucket.

I couldn’t find the parking lot.

I couldn’t find the girl.

The dirigible arrived again.

I located my car,

had mechanical trouble

consulted an expert

and suffered the deconstruction

of my engine.

I returned to the bar--

saw Nan talking to

a man.

I convinced them both

to come with me--

figured I'd get rid of him later--

maybe ask him

to check the tires—

then drive off.

I found my car in the

parking lot,

immersed in muddy water.

It had been raining.

They decided not to come.

I drove away,

avoiding the telephone wires.

The highway stretched to

the horizon,

visible,

it seemed

two hundred miles away.