Poems

My First Time

On my first trip to Los Angles
I fell in love, not just with a man 
but certainly with a man
alpha tall, cigarette-ad handsome 
wearing tooled cowboy boots
and an extra long business suit. 

We danced a perfect two-step
him lifting me in fancy turns
robust at twenty years my senior
loving his money more than me 
refused many tears later
to divorce to marry me. 

The city of Los Angeles
shirtsleeve warm, gentle sun 
on my winter face, blue-white
from Minnesota’s autumn 
we posed for photographs
me in single mom bad haircut. 

We dared the loving fates
returning to our convention 
met in the rooftop Carrousel
walked at dawn without parkas 
saw the future, kissed my cowboy
an accepting, tear-filled good-bye. 

I left my recently warmed heart 
not only with him, my cowboy 
but with lovely Los Angeles
went home to dream a fool’s dream 
now live with palm trees, beaches
mountains, but, alas, no cowboy. 

Pacific Beach Sunset
Old Sol traveled the empty ocean sky
kissed the topmost mountain as if
in foreplay then dove in setting fire
to shallow halo then darkness
no clouds to capture and reflect
his dying beauty keenly remembered
from summers on the farm work done
sitting elbows on knees with others
past the cool evergreen windbreak
sharp aromatic now remembered
last train of the day at the horizon
steam of his whistle visible long
before we could hear his sound
adjoining hayfields wafting to bring
chaff sticking to humid skin heat
readying for harvest and silage
dairy cows I can smell them still clouds
gathering for their chorus patiently
waiting until one by one they sing
notes of sunset my brothers betting
pennies and a dime on which next
until a final chorus, sudden mosquito
filled darkness sent us scrambling
the last television weather report
important to farmers my aunt uncle
tolerantly or not dealing with four
imps not their own while my parents
briefly childless wrangled marriage
details never getting them quite right.