The Way of St James

At the bookstore now a restaurant
at the record store now a salon
for tanning the skin with a color
no freckled cowboy ever wore
the young stay young.

A man who resembles a man
I play ball with every Monday
and a woman looking with soft-boiled
eyes at her telephone to find
more frenzy than she can.

Santiago before he was converted
was older than he was smart.

If you focus on her mandible
you see Jalisco in her cheeks
she grants him no easy permission
but he massages it into liberty
from here to nearby.

The long and passionate detour
is the most direct and sweet route
like moving out of orbit into waylaid
and spiraling plaid thread connecting
the surface and the deep.

Been in the curlycue thereabouts
for longer than not and dryer than
southwestern snakeskin stretched over
decades of mistakes and sore toes
I think I am closer than ever.

Santiago before he was converted
was older than he was smart.

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
This entry was posted in poem, poetry, song and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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