It would be neat if
with the New Year
for
Miguel
It would be neat if
with the New Year
I could leave my
loneliness behind with the old year.
My leathery
loneliness an old pair of work boots
my dog vigorously
head-shakes back and forth in its jaws,
chews on for hours
every day in my front yard—
rain, sun, snow, or
wind
in bare feet, pondering
my poem,
I’d look out my
window and see that dirty pair of boots in the yard.
But my happiness
depends so much on wearing those boots.
At the end of my day
while I’m in a chair
listening to a Mexican corrido
I stare at my boots
appreciating:
all the wrong roads
we’ve taken, all the drug and whiskey houses
we’ve visited, and as
the Mexican singer wails his pain,
I smile at my boots,
understanding every note in his voice,
and strangers, when
they see my boots rocking back and forth on my
feet
keeping beat to the
song, see how
my boots are scuffed,
tooth-marked, worn-soled.
I keep wearing them
because they fit so good
and I need them, especially
when I love so hard,
where I go up those
boulder strewn trails,
where flowers crack
rocks in their defiant love for the light.
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