errol miller
Eternity
Americans
they wait in America
drawn to its walls
devouring exquisite siren-songs
and the false security of New England
there is a larger chambray house waiting
for all of us, cry if you must
for Greek revival and greener pastures
out past Des Moines and Omaha's stockyards
I have seen the lights of sad cafes
extinguished by the hired hand
that plan, mythical bent
from upstate New York
where the subtle gray of downtown
fuses with the artwork of the travelers
this is the unfinished baroque canvas of today
where good old boys in battered pickups
go down to Charlottesville to wait
at the Transcendental Inn
all the comings, all the goings
picturesque lilies of the valley
never achieving international fame
and flawless exotic solstice palms of summer
assembled like Woolworth diamonds
on a crowded heaving Gold-Coast shore.
