APRIL 20, 2008
the white coyote

I dreamed we met on the Spanish steppes

But we were not in Spain

And we were not in Rome

We were far afield

Opening onto yet another field

Separated by a half hearted fence

You had a red and white car

A convertible

You lapsed into Spanish

And spoke of your ride

Into the unknown

I felt I did not know you

And found myself wishing

You would depart

Then I saw a white coyote

Just there beyond

I grabbed your sleeve

And we watched it together

It did not bolt when it saw us

It lifted its white head

And it sang to the sky

And I knew you