i have not forgotten

Amid the horrid rigamarole I am every day asked to keep track of, America, I have not forgotten you. I don’t get out of bed without the prairies and parking lots, without the wide loads and amber tucked into my collar, the totemic towers stiff in my shirt sleeves making my elbows unbreakable. America, when the cloth that was torn from my chest sets in with its enormous phantom ache like a skin graft taking place somewhere along Highway 58, I think of you, your broken blinker ...