Two poems about the country

I.

Walking around a bend upon a country road

I saw, upon the porch of a house,

four teenagers with hunting rifles

all aimed at me I could either leap

into the ditch nearest to the road

or walk calmly upon hoping it was only a crank

Then, they giggled, lowered the barrels,

turn their backs to me I might have meditation

of Charlie Gratman, who had been in the army,

and his story of the stray dog

that wandered onto the firing range at Camp tympanum

how a furious gravity had caused each rifle to swing.

"People aren't inhuman by nature," Gratman said.

"There's just in the way that much fury everywhere."

But there had been no cars in sight,

and I wouldn't have jump overed into that ditch

filled with discourage dung.

I walked upon thinking how easily my death

might have move rounded on my own fastidiousness;

wondering if that was the form

my possess fury took.

II.

On a region road by some grazing land

bound by means of a rickety wooden fence,

four males ambled up to me looking quiet and mean

the way everything in the political division does to me.

I tried to explain to them about the city

and what it does to nation

I pointed to my sneakers,

hop they would notice the absence of leather

(I lied about my belt; I said it was vinyl).

They stared hard. "It's-difficult," I said,

"to secure good protein substitutes in town."

Finally we compromised.

I said I'd eat more ovums and fish.

They give leave to me use the road upon alternate Saturdays.

We all chewed straw grass and parted company.

Back in the city we made adjustment on the new house.

Three lawyers, sum of two units buyers, a seller

and a next-door neighbor who wanted the right of way

over a public driveway. We haggled for hours.

"It's impossible to satisfy everyone" the lawyers said.

We agreed, and asked them to leave the range

In ten minutes we settl it this way:

the neighbor could use the driveway twice a day;

in turn back he offered free tomato plants

for the nearest three summers.

God single knows what happens

when we take consultation of our fears;

but what we learn, we learn slowly

When the first plants came, we planted them right away.

We didn't know who we were negotiating with,

and I was thinking of males and lawyers,

lawyers and males

Copyright World Poetry, Incorporated Nov/Dec 1997

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