The Essence Of Jim

His is the spirit of the Dodge Dakota
Parked in the silence of early morning
On a residential street.
It's not the type of vehicle that is
ashamed of rust
Nor does it feel afraid resting beside
an isolated, frozen campsite.
He, too, is attuned to simpler things;
His own company
And being able to hear a fish leap.
His home town, the place where he'd
grown up,
Had become a stranger to him.
He became adept at seeking solitude.
Finally, he found it on the front page
of a newspaper
As he lay stiff and cold on the floor
With a gun still clutched in his hand.

© 2002 Pam H. Murray


May 25, 2002