and so the midwestern ache sets in again,
the ceaseless desire for Else.
i have seen enough of the world now to know:
there is soft commonality,
Else discordant urban chaos.
there are mighty chasms of humanity, social barriers
too bold to be broken,
too old to dispel,
Else making peace and keeping pace.
there is atlanta, brash and american,
or chicago, which has never lost its iron ore.
there is boston, where the coffee is too dark,
and the busy sycophantic symphony of new york.
there is the quietude of raleigh
(where the word quietude might still be used),
or the silence of oklahoma city.
there is still sweet sunshine in ocala,
clouds that don't protect the skin.
Else flatlands, burnished with old thoughts,
clouds that bubble up on tuesday afternoons like parquet floors
and will not disperse until nine thunderclaps later.
Else cornfields and cowfields and
clawing a way through dozens of other applicants
to find true love.
Else solitude in an apartment full of noise:
Else learning to appreciate nearness.