This Place I am Thinking of...

August 27, 2026

This place I am thinking of

Comes up hazy,

Like a dream.

High-top chairs and a round table,

2 leaves, solid wood.

This place I am thinking of,

Up North,

Off the highway,

Amidst the cow sculls and chainlink

And wagon wheels adorned with rust,

Where the cigarettes burn like incense

And the air is thick with life;

Generations gather in the dark and early,

Morning sun comes up from the East,

The reliable rooster crows,

Longhorns journey down from the pastureland

Murmuring "good mornings"

And procuring a drink from the murky pond.

And all of this occurred each and every day,

And each and every day before that.

And time went on,

And all at once,

That place I was thinking of,

Was gone.

And still this day the rooster crow,

The Eastern sun still rise and burn,

The longhorn,

No doubt,

Still wake and drink.

And still this day that place exists,

If only in my deepest mind

and wildest dream.