30:30 2014, Day 30

Twinkie the Kid

Back East I was born

a golden sponge, ensouled

in a burst through two needles

in my back. These scars I took

across the ford, to America's

hopeful place. I own a good pair

of boots and faith and my chores.

I graze the herd on the painted

desert where they used to test

hydrogen bombs. Once I was caught

in the noon heat, no hat 

or shadow, and atop the table

mountain at the horizon stood

a twin I believe I left behind.

A craving for distance never leaves.

I stay out of the sun now. In a cool

dry place I could keep forever.