driftless western upland


i remember the morning, a

tie-dyed sunrise blessed

onset to adventure into the

center of the great rust belt

bermuda triangle.

coffee, gasoline, and the

last traffic light on the left.

a callow couple of

cross-eyed lovers kissed

like starving dogs eating

road kill upon the plastic

face of a personal injury

lawyer on a bench at a

bus stop with broken

windows. they part and

the man removed a pistol

from the inside pocket of

his pristine maroon

member’s only jacket.

they kissed again with

equal gusto, shared a

look of liget and pressed

their temples together.

the man put the pistol to

his head and pulled the

trigger. having wildly

miscalculated the caliber,

the bullet never left his

head as intended and he

fell lifeless to the concrete

sidewalk at her feet. a bus

arrived and she boarded.

his soul stood from his

flesh, extended his

phantom thumb and

immediately began to

hitchhike. i unlocked the

passenger side door and

nodded him over. we rode

together in comfortable

silence from the lakeshore

postcard lowlands of farm

and forest overlaid open

sky on rolling hillside and

engraved through the mint

limestone escarpments of

the eastern ridges to the

river veined valleys of the

driftless western upland.

the bus stop spook split at

my destination, i embraced

my brother moa outside of

the newly leveled camper

of creature comforts. we

consumed a dual ivory

square paper sacrament

in the tamarack teepee

rocket ship on a tall

grassed gradient at sunset.

a sepia tone northern core

shrew from fifteen minutes

into the future joined us at

our feet to prattle between

our ankles and walk the

dusk wind. we gazed with

glass eyes our golden

lover’s goodbye as our

wooden roman candle

vessel breached the veil.

we emerged on the

well-made bed of a

baroque plain of blue

prairie grass.

a grand range erupts

from all directions.

the first drop of the flood

against my brow, i pivot

to face you.