Last night in
humid pre rain
listening to Josh
Ritter my
hair soft as fur
singing all the
words thinking
of old friends
loving his smiling,
ecstatic face thinking
of Moscow, Idaho
thinking of the
train tracks below
my father’s house
train like a river
coming through a
canyon shaking my
father’s house, ins
and outs
floating home in
my car like boating

it’s too intense
the colors of
life the woods
by the river
how high the
ferns that grow
and the moss
how the drum
beats with my
and guitars
twang with my