Buzzflash
del.icio.us
Digg
Facebook
Mixx it!
Reddit
Take if you will this improbable boy,
skin like August arcing toward its apex,
heat sheen across the highway, hazy
gloss on the way things seem, in transit
from one state to another. Raised by the same god
of vacant Sunday parking lots
and imported palm trees, natives of nothing
near home, he comes from the high sound
of his own voice, his skin sings something
he can't recall, a sudden wind through yellow-
brown palm fronds, rising and as quickly gone,
rising and subsiding all at once, at one
with nothing held in place.
Take if you will this boy made out
of wish and will-not-ever-be, made out
to be something he's not, breeze
through the trees. Puzzle his riddling
skin, his irrigated desert
body couched in eroding
mountains. Ride out the rustling sibilants
and make a man into an effigy:
of summer skin, the last exemplar.
Subscribe Now!
The only way to read this article and the full contents of each week's issue of The Nation online is by subscribing to the magazine. Subscribe now and read this article -- and every article published since for the past five years -- right now.
There's no obligation -- try The Nation for four weeks free.
- Get The Nation at home (and online!) for 75 cents a week!
- If you like this article, consider making a donation to The Nation.
RSS