to the servants of technology:
live reality as it erupts in front of you.
come to tears with me in the morning
when the frost forms and we hold out our arms
to soak solar radiation.
I have tried so long to find closeness
in the hot swarm of cheap communication,
in a blue glow, but I want to start anew.
this will be my confession.
oh, women, I haven't seen you look as rich
as the Americas, you didn't swim after me
when the hills opened up to swallow me alive,
when I went to take apart the university brick by brick.
but I tore it down nevertheless!
at the Yellow Brick Road, it was two beers,
two games of pool, "I hear it's a lesbian bar!"
and "what can I getcha darling?"
my soul longed for this
dark world of comfort and darts.
my soul and I have earned this richness.
I paid it forward with cheap PBRs,
black coffee, and water-water-water.
my parents paid it forward in a old suburb
built by a dirty river,
where the interstates come, cross, and carry
air-conditioned families on through to the west.
when Tulsa was the oil capital of the world,
it built a Gold Driller, but sure enough,
Moses came down the mountain and dried it up.
so in desperation we moved further south,
we made the streets wider and the driveways taller.
forgive us, downtown.
let me admit, I spent my savings
on french fries and tacos,
I gave away my good fortune
to fly airplanes, and I turned in my
Badge for Good Ole Boys
Who Can Still Make Their Mommas Proud.
careful who you deputize, mom.
an early morning airport
keeps my conscience at bay,
faltering for a passport in his saggy pockets.
every night that I shot full of lead,
every girl that I dipped in copper,
and every piece of silver moonlight
that I tarnished green
won't make it though the metal detector.
I'm almost to the gate.
