Machine from Animal
When I was a kid, I couldnít tell
machine from animal.
The patience of those cars waiting
all night at the curb, like horses
tethered for hours outside saloons,
disturbed my sleep.
In the fields, cows stood chewing
their cuds and shoving out manure.
Our washer or dryer shook
and left a little red pool.
My father wound a grasshopper
up and let it leap into the weeds.
It leaked a little oil in his palm.
Yet, I rode our dog, and teased
our cat, I climbed into our Plymouth
and was driven off to school.
I am still that kind of fool.