What is it about rows of corn stubs
flipping past, electrical wires sagging
in sync with the tracks, whistle beaming
out to snow-flat fields, clumps of houses,
trees so far away you think of desert,
that pulls me back to dream-like chatter,
long nights on empty roads? We meet again
in this rhythmic void, away from every-
where that is any place, away from any
precise memory even, but somehow rejoined
in this wide open endlessness, orange sun
spreading under soft navy clouds.
This is all the gorgeousness I love about your work. And I-57? I knew it well…my little house was in a little town just off 57 🙂
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Oh! Yay on two counts! Are you coming back to Chicago this summer?
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Yep, it’s official. We’ll be rolling in around the first of August. Some flexibility on where to settle…looking for good schools meet affordability. 🙂
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