Along the way, we also trace the winding path
like the edited excerpts of letters
written on bar napkins and kissed.
My first was with a girl named Jessica,
and I was grateful.
Through sugar cane
and circling mountains,
we bop and hope,
like boxers
before the big fight.
But the fight never comes,
not more than a bootleg,
from some river.
Toy trains still tell us
where to go,
at least me
and my Roman shadows.
Visual field disturbances
and renewed commitments,
this is how we roam clever.
My first death scare,
happened many times.
My first life scare, once.
Give me a raincheck,
before the white snow.