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You leave and
drive down a gravel road that is
dusty and well-tended this year not
rutted like last year and it curves a little this
way and that just back from the
dunes and up against the great
salt marsh and it is a
scorcher today it is a
record-breaker for April so hot and so
like something from another land a different part of
the world this anomaly of hot and the mostly
still-bare trees and the brownish
marsh still in spring ferment still in
the beginning of things it looks
like Kenya or the outback or a surprisingly
dry part of Colorado and the dust comes up
in plumes around you and what is it you feel what is
it this unease maybe
heartbreak maybe pain maybe
nothing maybe just the
mistaken notion from the
funny visuals telling your
brain that you are
far from home
maybe only the
oddity of the day and when you come
around the corner
and are faced with
this undulating bright green grassy hill
why is it you suddenly
feel like crying
you just wish there was some way to
more than look
you want to run a pair of giant hands over and
feel the feel of those swells and contours
not a plain round hill but a little
arrangement of hills so green and soft and the
grass just long enough now to
wave a little in the breeze and it shines in the
sun and you don't want to look at it or
run through it or
lie in it you
want to be it
want to get from
here
to there
and then you are past it but
thinking of it and feeling
all day
for the rest of the day
the choke of the crying you
didn't do and the wanting
to just be
those pretty green grass hills.