Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Friday, June 27, 2008

Moving Back

Up and up Cerro Carcel
the wind delicious but forceful:
just enough to make the nap that was promised
all the more worthwhile.
We got sand in our eyes
bits of whatever off the road
and later stopped to appreciate the view.
Earlier I said I'd miss the beer,
especially Kunstmann.
We laughed at the prospect
of an earthquake that would destroy
every single house on these hills
and yet they pop up on stilts
sideswipe the streets and say,
"I'm a house!" and exist to spite nature,

painted a pink, an orange,
anything bright that will off-set the rusted tin roofs,
one of them so brightly blue, we
couldn't notice, at first, the wood
that was missing. We were
conscious of those impending tremors,
but we laughed. Then a car backfired.
"They got me!!!" screamed Leora.

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