Gooroo (Chekhov)
On the night of my freedom
a Cherokee barnowl spins by to
snatch my breath
a single helium balloon wanders the parking lot
like a security guard
and the soccer field is framed by airline seats
The history of drama is such that
no sane person would dare attempt it
(“In her eyes, she is quiet like a fish”)
Better to climb mountains on Lake Michigan
ski slaloms across Death Valley
eat ice cream with no apology
than try to wrap up the human bloodflow
like a fifty-cent candy bar
(“You have created an elaborate romance for yourself”)
Hie thee to a bookstore
where they are rolling in Hemingway on a hand truck
But tonight I will toss my every essential
into a hatchback
and just leave
Because leaving is the only response.
First published in Terrain
(Tucson, Arizona)
Photo by MJV
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