Good to Be Back

Green Confession

I cannot write about Wisconsin green

because I’m accustomed to it;

just like I cannot write

about life without my skin

because I’ve lived with it.

I can only write about green

through wide eyed, white eyed

reactions of tanned, groomed men

who I transported along I-94

from Mitchell International.

Me dressed in a monkey suit

trying to make polite to strangers,

trying to remember my brother’s advice:

people love talking about themselves;

tryin' to be like grandma

who we learned from

while riding the bus.

When other people ask:

how do things get so green here?

I can only answer:

based upon second grade lessons

water gets into the soil from frequent rains

and spring thaws, white snow seeps

into a porous brown ground,

pink worms push through dirt

shuffling minerals, shitting minerals,

asexually fornicating against tree roots

crookedly arcing toward hell

leeching every decay ancestors left behind;

it’s a trusted process practiced in the Midwest.

pb