the last paper boat

a final (for now) run
mud gathering on my shoes
dark sky lightening in the west
no sweat, but rain glistening my skin
_______
sad roll of clyde
deflated tires on gravel
ashby the tiny cat following us all the way down
to the cow barn where mica
hefts the sparkle-sticker frame
up to me through the hayloft window
_______
sliver-slice of pumpkin pie feasting
on the front porch and when i ask emory
why not join the train station adventure
he says i don’t want to go
because saying goodbye will make me sad
_______
emory and i in the pine tree
this is the basement he says
counting how many levels it is up to me
_______
it doesn’t really feel like saying goodbye
i say as we reach the point
where the gravel hits pavement
_______
at the greek place
i imagine trish there
in her truman days
while mica, tyler and i
take turns sipping on
the pepsi version of doctor pepper
while we work on the last paper boat
of curly fries
and mica reveals
she brought a sharpie
just in case
(knuckle tattoos)
_______
on the jaunt to the station
tyler, mica and i laughing almost teary-eyed
first about a julie (the amtrak operator) remix
(j-j-j-j-j-julie)
then about a julie remix and thong song mashup
(thong-tha-thong-thong-thong…. got it
dumps dumps dumps like a truck …. i’m sorry
j-j-j-j-j- julie)
_______
your phone’s vibrating
mica says hugging me and my gigantic backpack
that’s not my phone i say
a sea of amish folks moving in
towards the open car door
that’s my vibrator
that’s a good rhythm tyler approves
and it is with this hilariousness
laugh still leaving me
with a wave thrown over my shoulder
that i board a southwest-bound train
_______
white-haired kind-faced woman behind me
lining up to board says
that backpack
is almost as big as you are
i know! i say
it weighs just about as much too
i promise i won’t fall over on you
and then, minutes later, we are seated next to each other
55 and 56
i think people that provide care i tell her
need to get care too
(regarding her sister whose husband
has been bed-ridden since may)
_______
where’s home for you margaret asks
i smile and say i don’t know
but i’ve been on the farm for
just over a year and that felt like a home
_______
the mighty mo margaret says
about the missouri river
that we think we just passed over
_______
sometime in the middle of the night
i wake up just in time to catch
sleep-eyed glimpses of
the longest grain elevator
in the world
white cement behemoth
hutchinson, kansas

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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