There is I think a woman named Patsy Cline who lingers from my past around this time period, Larger than Dezi and Lucie and larger than Rosean Barr. This below of course is not Patsy Cline however I would kind of like it to be… I am going to put this as a place holder while I consider how to write a poem about it. It will probably be a descriptive poem void of this conversation.
Three miles down and to the left beneath the never-ending arch of trees…
I dreamt a dream as the car drove beneath the trees. Three seven five.
A shadow climbs the side of our Fleetwood Cadilac Limousine.
The combination to my new Schwinn Banana Seat Bicycle. I have become
a tortoise awake in the sea along the coast of the trees watching watching
me. I am startled and alive. The never ending never ending promise. I am a
child of almost three. I read a Child’s Bible and saw a painting of Christ
sitting on a rock with children and fell in love with Him at almost three. I had
an IQ as high as only twenty others. I was physically five years old. And the
dream was alive in me.
September 