Michael Marcinkowski
 

Locational differences are only as between two rivers

for Jim Gustafson

 
 
 
 
 

(1) and it's so much stealing hubcaps off Cadillacs or the backwoods of the backyard when mosquitoes are too much when compared to gravel or Stevie and tall grasses are always around and     blasting     blasting. Disproportionately, it is water and about NE suburbs- seeing what.  can be had. Tucked in on Jefferson / fields dump hard on yr eyes when they spring up- showing a fertile, frail place that / hidden / comes finding / Stretches   of wildlife, and speaking of growth and development, grow and develop. (2) I still dream / spending time with Greeks, the mailbox and concrete men. Kingsville Avenue.  the closed up alleyway. when we had a garden in the back made of old timbers and split boards where I would dig and unearthing pig hoofs, mixed with factory slag. (3) veins of the blue overpass settle, democratize my own decisions, flat hills of grass with crooked trees; how it was all built post war and then town down. and some wealth shifts more violently,       open spaces, built by giant hands / Driving     in the rain            coming off 94, hemmed in by waters, and felt most in the accidental         growth and development. (4) vaporous and in love, the near winter       brings out your breath against the car window. The close-to-the-ground clouds          open up the gray land, bare branches pluck ways      across paths.              Huddling in thick coat and thick gloves across water and lapping waves, waiting for the car to warm.

  (c)Marcinkowski 2005