I glanced over at myself
in a three-way mirror today,
and startled, I wondered,
who is that old man?
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Say, so when are we getting
to the Promised Land?
Cause my dogs are barking,
and my children are screaming,
and our community is cracking
into a million little pieces
under the blazing extreme heat
steaming between whispering friends.
It is sometimes hard to imagine
myself as a child again, back in
their day, of eleven or eight,
when I ran open-armed through the
fields of waving wheat wheels
that tunneled from one circle to
another and back again.
It wasn’t really a lunar landing, or
something from outer space,
but back then, I did imagine
it could have been.
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