News of wars, accidents, cave-ins, crashes, murders …and I leave ….
Atop the hill, the Mexican fixes his gas filter.
He came with the circus from Veracruz, the warm section.
Immigration took him, the white woman married him,
And now he manages the red-apple tree orchard, heat
To fall’s frost, winter’s snows and spring’s buds ….
Also atop the hill, a Rhode Island prison guard
Buys apple pies and says he tries to reduce violence
Among prison gangs, he of Portuguese time ….
And down the hill, the tall disc jockey shakes water
From her tight black bathing suit, one piece,
And plays with her mixed-color teens, laughs with her
Brother, back from eighteen years in California’s redwoods and songs with Heartbreak lyrics ….
Lower, the all-fix mechanic accepts the teen’s words
That he’ll be back for the half-a-thousand tripod
Camera, “Got it when a guy couldn’t pay for his lawnmower repair, good trade, now The kid will pay
Me only thirty bucks, good deal. No matter, my heart Is getting better, operation, And each week I can
Lift more.”
Hills ahead, news, too,
With the Mexican closer to the white woman,
Guard sharing his pies with wife and friends.
Disc jockey eating fried chicken.
Mechanic feeling his chest and arms ….
“Seen Near Dawn”
…the bats with their final swoops,
The night birds, their final swoops ….
She sweeps pebbles and dust,
Daily, before and into the dawn,
The moon dropping yellow in the west,
Her custodian husband asleep,
She sweeps, collects and the bats and birds
Are away, black motion high ….
