on the bus toward home, west more
-land river bluff
built by floods, long hence
routed animal motions,
geese honk passing o'er head
drip their logs
over the golf course,
scat made of fish bone puree
hole in one.
on the bus, weaving its way
thru the toney wood
-stock/reed college neighborhood,
from a painting gig
my black dungarees palomino speckled
the bus halts as a pickup truck
parked impedes our bumpy hustle.
i walk to the driver
to ask directions,
return to seat, and a girl
pops into the seat next to me
"hi dad!"
her hair has changed since last week,
my punker teenaged daughter,
she's older. we chat,
she tells me about mom,
sister starting school this week and
sister's friending which is sweet.
i have to stop to pay
my phone bill, my spoonbill, dip deep
in the wallet, fish out me
-saw, a corner of my identity,
one chip off my blot
-good block.



Mt Tabor, Oregon
4-5-18