Returning in Stages

A couple of days after I got back from California, last week, someone asked me if I felt like I was back in Madison yet. I'd been in Europe, then Texas, then California, gone for over a month of the summer, which is not unusual for me.

Feeling a bit spaced out, not quite landed anywhere, I replied, quite spontaneously: "I am working on just arriving in my house. Can't arrive in Madison yet."

Letter from Dallas

Letter From Dallas


People in cars.
People in cars ask me
what am I doing, walkin'
"Is it true what they say about redheads?"
"Oh, I didn't mean anything by askin'. I just wanted to know what you were photographin.'"
"Cotton ain't cool, it's hot, baby. You should be wearin' fewer clothes."

I don't feel vulnerable
walking at home
walking in places I don't know
at night.
But here I am exposed.
Even in layers of clothes
I apparently shouldn't be wearing
though I am plenty comfortable in this
second summer
nothing like the autumn falling in Wisconsin.

In the North Dallas suburb that is my temporary home
my hosts are warm
my work on fire
my perspiration tumbles into the pool.
Once inside the walls of buildings
compounds
homes
I can open up.
But outside
outside
the late summer questioning
burns.