by Alan Walowitz
Call off your dogs.
A seller I’ll be and happy–
or whatever you want–
if you give me a moment to think.
The highways of America stare
open and ready. And potholed,
you might say. But life is entrapment
avoiding being trapped in them.
Let me rodeo a moment.
I’ll convince Uncle Harry or anyone
that a cow’s life is just as my own,
waiting to be hoist and weighed.
I won’t wait on your reply.
for I don’t fear as you grow closer
and I grow old
we might emit some same syllables.
I’ll be ugly only
when our mouths move the same.
I’ll be home soon.
Process note: This is an old poem, from around 1972. I think I wrote it when I was convinced I wanted to be a Jewish cowboy; or perhaps I was just going through some extra, late-adolescent rebellion–which has continued right through today.
Alan Walowitz has been published in various places on the web–and off. He’s a Contributing Editor at Verse-Virtual, an online journal, and teaches at Manhattanville College in Purchase, NY and St. John’s University in Queens. Alan’s chapbook, Exactly Like Love, was published by Osedax Press in 2016 and is now in its second printing. For more see alanwalowitz.com.