Driving West with Walt

I took Leaves of Grass with me for this:
The flawless dawn outside a Rodeway Inn
In Ogallala. Cigarette in hand, and also
Coffee from the breakfast bar, I sit upon
A bench outside and do my best to do as
He did, simultaneously bleed into these
Fields of corn here in the valley and the
Empty hills beyond, and bring them into
Me, to blossom into something, someone,
Greater than the one I was when I checked
In. In hours, I will leave, to billow likewise
Somewhere else. I'm not so sure I have
That skill. I'll stub my butt, and finish off
The coffee, pay my bill, and drive away
Toward Denver, bearing scripture,
Leaves of Grass. I'll do my best, but my
Soul's pinched. It's not like his, and, when
I've made my way back home, I may not
Have the soaring spirit that his poem
Evidenced. He was a better man than I.
I must get used to that.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 58 times
Written on 2020-08-07 at 04:08

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