Traveler

In 
Albuquerque
long walks are afoot, two feet,
crawl if you must,
coyotes do,
nothing to it
but grief’s
wail.

Oklahoma City
motel,
servers wear valentines
in November,
short shorts
the gawkers
would espy
what’s concealed.

Awake then,
he greets the cockroach
with a blow of the news
this world gives
its poor, its weak, its lost.
I wish
my love would wake in time
to love.

Next,
Des Moines, where
she carried him to sleep
before and now.
Come Minneapolis 
threading traffic
she makes him
happy.

(19 November 2013: II)

copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander