living bobby maggee

this poem could never be nonsensical enough to represent the week out of which it was born.

...

living bobby maggee:

the spirit, if you want to, like, go that far

is just supposed to observe the soul.

Zander of the Elves rides rocks and worships

the dying circle he calls sun;

explains a made-up game to a man whom i've seen

several times now.

when you meet a person three times you have to get their story.

the first time is just the course of events, the endless

stream of faces.  the second time is coincidence,

to take from what you can

gather.

the third,

means something.

(hippies on the beach still exist)

on the road to huelo, five of us huddled in the bed

of a flower farm truck, singing songs

in homemade keys, stop to pick up three more

friends from the side of the road.

Molly immediately starts into a quick-rattle 

tune.  the truck runs out of gas, still 

a mile of mountain from the lookout 

and has to cover the distance 

on a concoction of low gears and collective belief.

impish beach children had thrown sand on us

for trying to teach them to play games that don't

single anyone out.  it was endearing despite its unnerving

malevolence.  they called it

make the babysitter cry.

i'm not a babysitter 

and i will not cry.

now go away.

eat burritos in a camp-sized kitchen.

while listening to the welshman explain wales to my anxiety-riddled

soul-twin, whose arms and legs are thin but inviting,

experience is so distracting.

see sam

for the third time.

the world still swirls in ever-tightening spirals.

ironic and inching me 

closer to the center of something 

than i've ever been in 

this lifetime.

how can a world get smaller while the universe expands?

and when did the sky become picturesque?

beauty happens easy with things that we can't help

but leave be, 

like suns and moons and mountains and streams.  we

vow to adventure together.

i've got wheels.

when i think of words to leave with these quick-silvery friends,

who must soon leave me to go and chase dreams, i say

in my head with a wink and a smile

just don't go near Salinas or one of you will slip away, 

looking for that home that the other hopes

the other finds, but later wishes to trade back 

tomorrows for yesterdays and the corporal pleasures

of

co-inhabited

bodies.