Hands at ten & two,
late Miles on Bluetooth,
I’m driving north
where once it rained,
where I rode my old gelding
around the reservation,
visiting the hogans
of my friends. We’d
drink coffee & laugh
at my little orange horse,
his cow hocks, his blaze face
& his nasty disposition.
I’m driving north, yes, listening
to Miles play “Yesternow”
& searching for the red-tailed hawk
that’s followed me for days.
