We carried corn
For the deer;
Blocks of salt-lick, too,
Traipsing through fields like snail’s teeth,
Wearing lumberjack shirts & fuzzy-eared hats.
Our boots, muddy,
Wet & slick;
Lower lips, filled with “chew.”
Thinkin’ we was doin’ God’s Work:
Some o’ this & some o’ that.
Broken branches
Filled our path,
Snappin’ in the fog —
& we dreamed Big Dreams,
Like conquerin’ distant Worlds.
Crossin’ streams
With tight-rope toes,
Steppin’ on old logs.
(Millions o’ miles in the air,
Where we’d meet Angel Girls.)
Such memories form
On grainy, rainy days —
Marchin’ through time’s sumptuous mist.
As muses clenched our tattered clothes,
Like love-tears caught in a spider’s web.
The corn & salt,
Sweat & walks,
Long-since bitter-kissed.
Where are those idle dream-boys now?
Swept away by time’s flows & ebbs.
