Topeka

All you've ever wanted : the firefly and
the wind, the big realm where
possibility dwells, the parade of motors.
Snow falls on our field. You are out there,
lining the horizon, a figure smoking -
watching the whirls of garbage burning
into the sky. When do you fit into
a life, cradle the corn and the hammer
like they are starlets batting false eyelashes
in a stupid state, always sunshine,
always - Do we see the same lives
twinkle and shine, or have your
hands fallen the way mine have fallen,
to the pets, the comb, and later. Watching
traffic from the kitchen table. It is cold again.
You come in and kiss my hair, say
goodnight. Just goodnight.