Katy dear, make for me an old country road-map, knitted among southern quilts of residential comfort, rustically rooted in torn domestic idolatry; transcending worn patterns of embroidered evenings beside candlelit windows, dwindling in stale afternoon hours and warm sullen nights beside road-sign motels; where phosphorous constellations fuel-up a twilit horizon.
Katy dear, the tractor-trailer season will soon be behind us. Our wary two a.m. kitchen outings, out through a backdoor vestibule, below fiery backyard awnings; while a windswept tide creeps in off the vast Atlantic. We danced recklessly in counterfeit living-rooms to colored vhs anthems, drunk on cheap burgundy, reciting the Gettysburg Address in forsaken tongues; how I wish I got to know you better.
Early morning telephone calls to your illiterate stepfather in the depths of his dementia; begging for a couple of bucks for gas and beer; Katy dear, our food-stamp camaraderie expired monthly. In an inherited ranch-house you once owned; fresh out of college in stylish stupor.
With your mothers vintage records and your sister's prescription drugs, we created a dying season within reptile eternities. An autumn of juvenile lust, we attempt reconciling; weekly illuminating downtown, while frail cathedral footsteps linger down county pathways.
A summer of greed where you stole my heart from me, I snagged your virginity too soon. A tired teenage girl in the hearth of bucolic delirium. With our rolled cigarettes and sunburned agriculture, in jagged midnights we lay past out on the grassy dooryard landscape, naive winter reckoning spilled piles of fresh-fallen snow in soft white drifts. We grimly decorated the front-door lobby with flickering red and green dollar-store luminescence.
Springtime was carnal and of the pilgrim earth, dewy green pastures stretched out languidly beyond our unkempt lawn, magnificent auburn heaps of unmarked foothills, intoxicating our spoiled senses in rural aromas.
Then Katy, our resources fell abruptly short; pride came before our fall. A pale rupturing aftermath of sober realization, dead pets and morning-after clinics, a red beat-up mustang convertible and a pair of torn soiled dungarees. Our devices left us bewildered, in gods naked world; more was revealed to us, below soap-shrunken planets of ultraviolet demagnetization,
Our drugs and money seeped down dingy basement drainpipes, gnawing a gaping hole into our future.
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