Under that tree, I'm not from Ohio

Under that tree, I’m not from Ohio
May 15, 2009

There is a tree there
Like no other
old as God
branches down
almost a half bubble of timber
The perfect spot to put up the tent
build a fire,
drink beer all afternoon
and bum

Under that tree I’m not from Ohio
I don’t have a job
and bills
I never existed
I never went to college
or mended broken hearts
I wasn’t even born
I’m alien and instantly there
as though beamed down Star Trek-style
all my cells freshly arranged at the bottom in a mass of glowing flesh
‘Who am I?’ I’d think
I didn’t care

The sought-after amnesia was perfect
Everything new
I had no stock in anything
The anxiety gone
I just watched crows pick scraps in the campground
I might as well have been Walt Whitman

Deer wandered by at dusk and scared off the bobcats
I could hear the waves plock as they hit the pocket of the shore where that mountain river ends
A wall of hills curtain the east,
it is the end and the edge -
there is nowhere left
just a gold field
And a trail to the sea -
An old place and new life