through Idaho, Colorado.

This is a trip of up and down:
hills, mountains flat and plateau
East to West. Wait,

West to East.

through Idaho, once, a trip
of there and back again,
this time no stout ponies, no

we're in a Volvo this time
gliding over terrain I knew
in the cinema screen I keep
on the back of my skull. This land
had to be, and I see you, but wider.

Hello wide open,
hello barn doors. Frost and froth trees.
Hair that freezes,
makes dusky crystals to break wide open
my heart pouring out in headlight mist
and brights.

Eyes to the tilled earth
slow turn the furrowed chocolate.
It closes its eyes each winter,
whispers away bye and till
the ground bursts spring.