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“On Thursday 7 July 2005 a series of four bomb attacks struck London’s public transport system. . . 56 people killed, 700 injured.” --Wikipedia By my annual October trip to London I have buried the exploded British bodies under Katrina’s casualties But still can’t take the bus two kilometers from Euston Station to St. Margaret’s Hotel Suitcases too heavy to lift into a bus I tell myself Losing my first private battle against terrorism As I pull two suitcases and herd the third down Upper Woburn Place All the while awarding myself a walking ovat...
Morning coffee at the Bear Paw Bakery requires the mettle of a Montana driver The car acts like a drunk on the dirt road Sloppy as a warm chocolate bar I relax the steering wheel the way I learned at 14 to let go and give in to invisible great forces Press the accelerator in my vintage Lucchese boot to ten m.p.h. with no braking To keep from sliding into the roadside parade of young pheasants behind their mother Down the road a cottontail wasn’t so lucky In polite farmer protocol its flattened body has been moved to the far side of the road A...
Death by Modern Day Like a cat moved across country I make my way home Pulled by instinct to a Montana prairie town where I appear on the porch of a cabin Curl up with a Border Collie and a cat named Damn My worldly wounds licked until something inside squeezes And the city cuts close A haven taken for granted Bear Paw Mountain beauty over bleak plains Brushed in a plein-air painting that blends into the wall of my mind I expected equal permanency from the 700 population Guaranteed by tradition since pioneer grandparents handed down homesteads...
