for the next poetry reading in effingham, nh

The Last Time I Was Here

the last time i was here, this podium was pushed back

so that a guitar would fit up here

& i wondered how, in my motorcycle clompy boots,

lugging my considerable girth,

i wondered how, without turning red of face,

i would get to the reading place—

i thought i would be called next—

i noticed that one of the graces of arriving late

is that the first slot is always open,

with 18 or so others to follow.

i mumbled some silly platitude like someone

caught in an odd light.

katie McCarthy quietly said, “just push it forward,”

i do so & lo & behold, it rolled! it slowly creaked forward

like monty python’s trojan horse on an empty mission

i wondered at the devilish genius of it all.

what a marvelous weapon! a podium on wheels!

more formidable than the panzers of egypt & europe,

words for wheels, like ezekiel’s wheels of eyes within eyes,

all seeing, sadly rolling to exile.

more maneuverable, more stealthy

than the thunderous transports

we rode in ‘nam, i was impressed.

then i remembered—

words are the ultimate in maneuverability;

they last longer, run faster, & can change meanings,

in the twinkle of an eye, those very eyes within eyes;

‘in the beginning was the Word…’ everything follows the verb,

no wonder it’s on wheels.

djd 09.26.07