Texas

The days were so hot you could walk out of your house

and disappear. Return as a puff of smoke,

fall onto the couch for the rest of the day.

Blooming vines shriveled on a fence

while you were gone. I loved the old raggedy streets,

lost edges of time, and oddities, World’s Largest Pecan

proudly inhabiting Seguin’s town square.  There weren’t

as many people, guns, or human nuts back then. Not as many

flags or fanatics. But I do recall the church where people

spoke in tongues, waved their arms, screamed Jehovah!

then later asked my dad in a normal voice if he wanted

to grab a bite.

My parents bought the first house they looked at.

Of course they did. This was how they rolled,

though they thought holy rollers were extreme.

They didn’t pass a lot of judgment though. Women

held hands in our living room. My pals talked to my dad

about pot. I wouldn’t touch pot or take an aspirin.

A bit Amish by nature, I absorbed The Whole Earth Catalog,

planned a teepee, sewed a quilt. Texas had room for

everybody back then, it seemed important to pronounce

Blanco Road correctly.