to be I could pick one up out of the road, all flat and thin,
take it by
edge, rear back, and just spin it out, watch it sail over across
nice, nature's own ecological frisbee.
were cats, some were rabbits or squirrels, varmints of any kind,
to call them all cats, sailcats. After being run over by cars and
some fifty times or more on those old dirt roads, we could hardly
they were before, so round and flat and thin. It was a temptation
a spin and watch it sail that seemed pointless to resist.
don't find them like that any more. Since they black-topped these
a varmint makes just a bloody mess without all that nice fine
to give it stiffness, so it'll sail, spinning quick in the sun,
thermal, maybe, over some hell-hot cornfield, sailing on and on,
the edge of the hill, until we'd think that the thing would never
all, at all...
come to me that I’d been away a spell
I heard the waitress recite
her family history to someone in the booth behind,
explain why the hot biscuits were all gone,
I watched a man sitting by the window,
out, get his soup,
go on shaking in salt before he even tasted it,
the time keeping his eye
something going on outside,
I knew then
I was back down here
the women talk
the men salt.