Madison, Wisconsin, May 1970 (After Kent State)
Madison, Wisconsin, May 1970 (After Kent State)
“Take off your thirsty boots
And stay for awhile
Your feet are hot and weary
From a dusty mile
And maybe I can make you laugh maybe I can try
I’m just looking for the evening the morning in your eyes.”
Eric Anderson, “Take Off Your Thirsty Boots”
Take off your thirsty boots
and stay for a while this was what
the curly haired lover sang to her on a dusty mile
on a day when there were fires sirens
clouds of tear gas stinging their eyes.
On a day when in a tear gaze rage and haze
they were armed with stones in their pockets
ready to fling rocks at the cops.
He saw her in the midst of
rubble yells and screams.
Pigs! Pigs! After gunshots
and fallen bodies
after napalm rain fell in places so far
away they couldn’t fully imagine the burning
the scorched leaves in tropical forests
or the darkness in country.
Wearily they held on to each other and stayed
for a while. He with his stout build
and wide arms that took in
her still young and muddy soul
yearning for a resting place.
Her blue velvet riding skirt flared in the sun
stuck to her skin in early morning.
Her open grin replaced by aching need.
On a dusty stretch of country road
they shared secrets the pale yellow
green of the Plains stretching out before them.
They told each other stories and watched the sun set
stones still weighing down their pockets.
Her hair in pig tails, her denim overalls collapsing
over her thin body, she looked for the evening, the morning in his eyes.
Then later in the midst of dust and acrid smoke
he gave her a damp handkerchief to cover her mouth
her nose so she wouldn’t breathe in fumes of gas
after nights with sirens blaring and search lights
that framed the bedroom window
after they rested in the curves and warmth of their bodies
with their bloodied words and muddy selves
as the world reeled around them he was gone.
Without a word. Gone.
Now the song returns
The girl in pig tails and cowboy boots
is long gone and white stones
gathered at the edge of the shore
travel to grave sites and rest
with shards of mussels oysters clams
iridescent fragments in a bowl by her bed
The girl treks through paths of memory
through a dusty mile
through present worlds littered
with shattered glass fallen bodies fires
sirens and tears. She wanders through
the broken places in this world
searching for the shadow of herself in the ruins.
Looking at the evening the mourning in her eyes.
SELECTED WRITINGS:
Madison, Wisconsin, May 1970 (After Kent State)