Iowa

The beauty escapes me here
Locked in this tiny apartment
I hear those things they say—those touched with fire
Of the majesty just out of range of a broken down 91’ Camry
But I’ve been trying lately to rekindle what I used to know
That great secret glue that holds all things together
That intoxicating love so few can truly know
Love of life—of all things

My dream is an Iowa farmhouse,
A long winding dirt road through rolling field
That woman I’ve always known but haven’t yet found
Hanging sheets as that dance in the breeze on the line
Out—
Free—
Away from this awful mess,
This cell, this town

And a hammock in the back yard under some apple trees
that breathtaking sound of miles of rolling hills
perhaps one day I’ll find it
that sublime sunset as another day passes
without fear or anxiety about the coming years

I’m trying to get there—
But my power has been shut off
And the sterno cans are running low
Get clean, get healthy
And who knows
Maybe there is some great compassion that dwells among us
Invisible just waiting for us to take the first step and grant us a reprieve