You're never, ever there
when I draw
that straight line on the thin
parchment of my heart.
I know your spring-melt creeks,
your muddy fields and woods,
your lonely roads.
The half-blind headlights of my old man's pick-up
cast a sallow eye on your darkest blacktop --
Heights-Ravenna Road --
a country highway that still pours
all my youngest years into the deep
water of my midnight soul.
When did you do it?
When did you wash away
all my most secret maps,
Ravenna, Michigan?
When did you
lose track of me?
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