xtcian

stopping by woods

1/11/05

Somewhere in the air of a subway cabin
Or a party hors d'oeuvres or the unheard cough
Of a patron at "Tea and Sympathy," a tiny pathogen
Made its way to me, and lodged in the back of my throat.
And there it sat for a few days before taking action
Finally coming into its own, last night
I saw it for what it was, and thought
I have to get home to my baby.

Two hours north of her, however, the skies opened up
And I knew it was going to be a race between
The twin goals of Nature's biggest and smallest;
Thousands of miles of sleet on one side and
The tiniest microbe I can imagine on the other

On a mountain between us, on tops of two hills
My car hit a patch of ice, and stayed there
With the front wheel spinning, going about one mile
An hour.
Ghosts of past journeys with the same car
Whizzed past, blurs of red in warm seasons,
Barely noticing its future self struggling for just
A few more inches, and each revolution I repeat,
I have to get home to my baby.

My girl is blonde and 35, the daughter of a tyrant
And a queen, and knows how to give relief
With the solidity of one and the milk of the other.
With such a blizzard, you can't see much but the
Faint shimmering of the sky in the South, no doubt
Caused by some obvious white blue eyes.

The snow turned to rain and the rain turned to misery
And a trip usually two hours reserved a block for nine.
Even as book read aloud spoke of the ancestors we needed
250 from year 1800, sixteen thousand from fifteen hundred
And how they all craved each together at precisely the right time
To produce you
And me
And whatever is inside you
It was a number high enough.