Autumn Hush
Down through doomed leaves and lowering dusk, the man knocks his pipe against the porch rail, sits back, rejoins the murmured conversation. Above, sharp eyes roused to peer now slacken, sigh closed, find again the soft, sure darkness of the inner wing.
Flagstaff Cadillac
A January night in a bitter mood, a good place Not to be, quartering into a slicing wind across The Safeway parking lot, a junk-snack quest From a haggard motel: decrepit placeholder Waiting for an offer, coke machine defunct, Tiny Chinese woman living under the front desk. Me, plus this other fool crunching crabwise From his encrusted car, and Bigfoot, downsized, Ratty beard, stocking cap, careening around The entry doors exhorting bags of sidewalk salt, Firewood bundles, stamping a feint to plunge inside, Flout his standing invitation to Get Out and Stay Out. He was there collecting tolls, hoping to, the kind that Skip a boozy gauntlet of hollering and flapping arms, All of it cued up for rerun when you come back out. I was fishing for a bill to buy smooth passage (And a dollar's worth of conscience on a frozen night At 7,000 feet) while Crabwise ducked past to throw Himself into warmth and light, pitched a glowing, near-virgin Cigarette at the sand bucket by the door, a smoke That never knew what hit it: Littlefoot's bare hand darted Like a diamondback, nailed it almost before it landed. Semi-toothed ecstatic grin, he spun to face me, Held it high to declare it, pronounce it, to tell me What it was: "Cadillac! With the motor running!" He plucked my dollar with his rattler hand, exploded The night into hoots and cackles, left me standing there Ambushed by a metaphor. Chastened and strange, I wandered the aisles, bought crackers and Chianti, Thought I'd offer some to that Chinese woman I'd ignored: Just then I felt like listening to her talk, Hearing what she had to say.