“Those aren’t bulls, they’re steers”
she corrected from the passenger seat.

Now a waitress at the country club.
“I bet you get some pretty far-out passes.”

“More than that!” She giggled.

Here she was living with a man
in a hotel in town. He was a Mohawk

who raised horses and died
two days after landing a paying job.

“I guess I’ll never go back”
– to the farm, to the city –
it didn’t matter.


Sometimes it’s the Baptist upbringing.


She couldn’t understand why her parents
were still together. Thought her mother

once had a lover. She’d hear kissing
after being sent to bed, after her father’s

best friend had come over. Now
he couldn’t stand him.

There was a big waterfall on their farm
which they had to sell.

And she told me
she had laryngitis the previous week,

making me wonder
if I should have kissed her good-night

so much.

To continue, click here.
Copyright 2015


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