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8/29/80: Norman Stephen Gardner
This morning went well enough. All the plants Watered. Birds fed. Caught the morning sun While drying my hair. Between the pages Of Women in Love I found a matchbook From the West Memphis, Arkansas, Ramada Inn Next to the Greyhound Racetrack. After drinks We lost ten dollars each on the slowest dogs I'd ever seen chase a plastic rabbit In tired, worn circles. We came outside laughing About the way the other people screamed When those tall, lean racers stretched out long Behind themselves; I told Robert how I thought They were a string of hyphens looking for words. He squeezed me dizzy; I spun a circle On the sidewalk and sank like a large flower In the center of my skirt. As my eyes Came back to focus, I saw, between his knees, Thin waves of heat rising like fingers of air Reaching to escape the hot, flat Arkansas clay. Originally published in The Devil's Millhopper
and This Book Is For Eva (Palanquin Press) |
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