When I see this yellow truck, I think of Sunshine in the mountains, of gorgeous rivers, streams, creeks, drybeds, and the ocean. I see animals everywhere riding in the back of the truck like it's a circus wagon on the way to the train station. These wheels can take you anywhere. To the moon if that's where u want to go. To your friend's house for Easter Dinner that was made by people in bad moods so you aren't even sure if you want to eat the food. You can get away from everything and everyone in this truck, just go, just be, just fly. It's a yellow poetry truck, another one, and in the bed lies a little poem:
Easter Sunday in the Fountain City
I think I am walking boldly around on dangerous ground
But I like it so I won't take myself away for now I won't run
Like I'm used to doing, wanting to go fast with every fiber
Of my delicate being, afraid, scared like a spider on the wall.
I have forgotten how to be a woman because I never really knew how
in the first place, from the first time when i wasn't ready and never could
catch up from that. In my fourth decade, I can imagine, but not remember.
I feel like slicing a piece of wind from a bear's paw.
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