Erie

I owe so much to you When you pulled at me, Tugged me from my toiling, When I was crouched low, In the kitchen, blurry choke of tears I saw the outline of your peninsula Etched in florescent blue in my mind A little red star on a map Such a hard drive (for me and the Ford) But I, swept into the arms of that gentle house, Saw a clearing in the nettles, one that I could pass through And those turned to violets that kissed me as I was waking up And going to bed, listening to the healing black wind Through the many cracked windows Presque Isle with her flags and sea glass The promise of going to Canada Turning my head to look at the lake, that dark lake Itself enigmatic- a sea but not a sea I think about that, brush the snowy sand from my palms Yes, in a way, That could be me