from the back of a pickup #2

we bounced along

considerin each other’s bare feet

sweet July sweat moist from the haying,

listenin to scratchy Howlin Wolf tapes

cut alfalfa deliciously lifting us into the air

sky sprinkled by galaxies

extraterrestrial bebop expressionist lightshow movement,

and from somewhere Sonny commentin on the stillness of that night,

my giggled response

sendin her long spidery fingers

deep inside her tight backpockets for a pack of Juicy Fruit,

and soon the sugar hit

and Howlin Wolf’s guitar became Dark Side of the Moon,

and we sure enough got up to dance,

recognizin more possibilities,

ridin tractors and buckskins,

and another sunrise comin on,

sleep becomin irrelevant

kickin aside our sleeping bags

all rolled up like our dreams then

jus bouncin along

from the back of a pickup

Fall, 2011

(recallin that summer in Bemidji, Minnesota, 1972)

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