Escaping From Arizona
We are running, running
toward the light
at the end of the tunnel.
Lunging and lurching
across mudflats, arroyos.
Inventing midnight metaphors
for things we stash in chilly mental garages.
The sun stops moving across our faces.
We run through the passes,
The plains, and valleys,
beneath the trees, walking the walk
into the black canyons,
across the stony rivers,
in the hills and in the deserts,
between highways that sound like music.
We do not forget who
we think we are, we are
discreet in our prejudices,
subtle in disdain, precious
in deceit, redeemed in laws.
You can’t even count
on your friends in real time.
We are moving, moving,
sliding across the border,
crossing against the light,
washing our hands, burning oil,
peaking around our own bodies,
making history a lesson to be ignored.
I was wondering where all the telephone booths went.
I wanted to make a call from the rain-reflected street.
I wanted to shake hands with someone who could hear
with something more than hate, with something less
mean than a subsidized frozen stare.
RS 2010