"A Long December" and Other Poems
A Long December
Days short and frigid,
natives stay inside,
clutching giant mugs of hot chocolate
while watching "Desperate Housewives"
as equally desperate wishes to head south,
change identifies or lovers,
to be anywhere or anyone else
for a sun-soaked afternoon
color the grayness of
late afternoon on the northern prairie.
Somewhere between the end of
Kentucky and the inception of Indiana
personal revelations are
requested. Quietly forced out--a silence
labor of becoming--such details
dominate the miles to come.
Ironically, we visited on a
Sunday. Vendors lusted after our
billfolds while musicians bared their
souls on a stage shaded, unlike the
bench where I sat.
Is this the city's core?
A question, one which reverberated
long after we departed, one that remains
My own private
utopia has eluded me.
I've searched in
cafe's, men's vacated
penthouses, and even
in this soulless city.
I'm moving to Nepal.