By J.J. Tindall
49 WESTERN OWL FEVER DREAM
My secret lover, we
held one another! I kissed
your cheek and then you fell away into a room and then I became another
room and a few people were talking and I felt naked and began to run
back to you room by room
BUT YOU WERE GONE
TO ME
AGAIN . . . then then then I was running through a desert wind farm
going slower and slower and slower
each mill of electricity a lurid pastel and there was a baby sitting
I I I I I became another room and I heard trains
then I fell into a ditch and couldn’t get up my knees ached I couldn’t
run anymore
whooshed awake God bleary back on the goddam
Blue
Line downtown . . . tumbling . . . ah your
cheek
–
J. J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He can reached at jjtindall@yahoo.com. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
Posted on August 23, 2007