Austin, TX

Pre-dawn like a long holiday stillness,

I’d carry the dog to the car and find

an open coffeehouse for a quick cup

before dedicating myself to the road

for you. The imprecise rituals we spoke in
then, begging me nearly two hundred miles

with a moan you sent up in a southwest

direction that’d resound in my heart’s bell.

The way to a steady journey relies

on not scoring the distances as you go,

but feeling every familiar marker

as if you passed here for the first time.

So, the only expanse, really, was walking

from the door to your bed as you awoke.

* * *

In the city beneath our sheets it is always midnight.

Your legs like the marble staircase of a landmark hotel

whose warmth and glow follow me as I roam the streets below.

What am I looking for? Spare bridges over silent

corbelled canals, the soft bounce of water against a cool

dark stone. And we are both here, stragglers, casing the joint

of every closed entrance and shuttered storefront we see.

Inspect the empty park places and back alleyways,

making our mental notes of the feel of the haunt as we

share unoccupied space like standing in the middle of blinking
crossroads, sleek street wet and metallic, or glimpsing a rare

attraction without any other eyes on it as if built

for us alone. I need no map, no signs, no destination point.

Knowing it well, let’s go with only blind sense and instinct.

***

Impossible City I knew

would take a hundred loves from me.

As a young man wandering up

and down and freely without cares,

I thought the beautiful belong

anywhere they happen to be

but the uninherited people

must channel an odd charisma

just to immerse ourselves awhile.

Everyone a performer there,

from students to politicians

and panhandlers to artists.

I tried being unforgettable,

once, don’t make me try it again.

***

Let me share one of my most secret joys:

driving against what seems unlimited

country, the already breathtaking train

of a horizon guiding me along,

I stop, from time to time, to experience

a village carnival or small town fair.

Brightly colored inflatable designs,

temporary stalls grilling handheld food,

baseballs striking a row of bowling pins.

I exchange money for a few tickets

and become a member of the public,

here to increase that ever dwindling

resource of happiness. Or, to win some

and keep it stashed until our next season.  

***

We lived behind an all-hours Mexican cantina,

Ruchi’s, where I thought to take you on a date, once.

You said you didn’t enjoy live music, or crowds, at that,

and I let the matter drop. Those loud angry drunkards

dancing haphazardly, and no rhythm could keep up.

You wanted a tea for two, then, the comfort of being

safely in each other’s silence rather than the world.

Told me, when you finally do propose the right way,

let it be in our bed, let it be during winter,

with no one else around but you and me and the dog.

Of course, we grew, and the industry nightlife and bars

we’ve pushed elbows through and sat all night waiting

for just a hint of some other humanity,

makes a permanent home for itself inside our skin.

***

My short-lived company invited street artists to make

our office walls the envy of all other office walls.

They left aerosol cans on the canvassed floor that I stole,

and we got to thinking we would enjoy some creation

of our own. I wanted you to understand this damned art

that took me away - takes me away - from you, so often.

We both spent a long time heavily invested in time.

I wanted you to want to be an accomplice, I think.

The graffitos slapped every open inch of the Stonehenge

and we didn’t dare cross over anyone’s painstaking

mural, but we found a hidden corner or one untouched

manhole cover to put our version of a key tossed lock,

those ubiquitous initials with a heart around it,

and your motto I always loved, “No Beginning, No End.”