I watch my granddaughter Walk before me Or rather, I watch the men Staining their necks As they watch her walk by, Young hips swaying like the sea Oblivious. And I am proud That the blood of my blood Can draw such rapture Such admiration Perhaps a little lust, And I catch their eyes And
There was a stand of trees Where the road from work Teed into the road home. They would dance in the wind, So close, their branches mingled, If one moved, they all moved, Choreographed. I would sit at the light, Waiting to turn, and watch them dance Swaying and bobbing with the wind. I would
some minor city in Illinois past midnight, the neon signs running on the wet pavement the tavern hard by the tracks we stop here to let one off or two get on — minutes of stillness in the long rough night I watch him stumble from the bar try to light a cigarette, give up.
