errol miller
Confederates In King Arthur's Court
Next of kin, another
alternate route winding out of Dixie
up through the heartland of the Northland: there
is no heart there, always throbbing One Other Mind
is lurking down St. Charles Avenue., we
came as friends to stay awhile, we were
snookered in a gingerbread time and place
where Ray Bradbury's stories come alive: are
we the invaders from Earth, of Earth,
from red-clay parts unknown?
Maybe tomorrow we'll depart O'Hare
at 8:041, an anonymous gyey-wing sky-buzzard
lifting us above these suburban marshlands. Sastia
says goodbye to her family, I say goodbye
to a weird brigade oi relatives, they must
change colors in warm weather, they must never
meander down to the grace and charm of the Southland.
The Lakefront, rather hazy, looms ahead. We
have the forecast for today, gloomy as hell
prior to Wednesday's liftoff, they have not served
us well, these keepsake people from faded photographs,
they've grown somewhat ultra-pensive, just
a bunch of bigot vagabonds opening and closing
their houses in the warm dog-day
afternoons of July.