Fool Courting Dance - Page 2

Fool Courting Dance - Page 2


Roll back the clock 4 months, to November in Boulder: MoB gets the Cosmic Kick in the Ass and abruptly obtains an old cheap car, and away she goes like a balloon with a hole in it, launched spinning, Alaska-bound, while friend, T-Bone, stays in Boulder to study computers, baking French bread to make bread.

Before parting waves, parting ways, T-Bone lays down some terms and conditions so that MoB and guy can communicate through space time – as retold by the poet, Jaime De Angelo:

Fox was the only living man. There was no earth. The water was everywhere.
“What shall I do,” Fox asked himself.
He began to sing, in order to find out. “I would like to meet somebody,” Fox said. Then he met Coyote.
“I thought I was going to meet someone,” Fox said.
“Where are you going?” Coyote asked.
“I’ve been wandering all over, trying to find someone. I was worried there for a while.”
“Well, it’s better for two people to go together … that’s what they always say.”
“OK. But what will we do?”
“I don’t know.”
“I got it! Let’s try to make the world.”
“And how are we going to do that?” Coyote asked.
“Sing!” said Fox.

The deal is sealed. MoB and her Squidmobile are launched on her maiden, epic voyage …

Dear T-Bone – thoughts from Montrose:
strange town
cold night
full moon
Play me that harmonica again.

why should it distract me
that you are baking bread?

If I had a job
a van
needed a cup of coffee
I might be there.

Instead I have a boat
and miles
and piles of words
to tell the world
& hope they want to know
& so I go
on the great black river
in my rubber-keeled fish
with a beer
& the AM bands
& these 2 hands
to guide it all along.

It can’t be wrong
– feels like paradise
under this sky
a place to be,
& places going by …

I tried that harmonica
– where’d you find those notes,
that train-whistle-moan
that mournful tune?

Asphalt busy with campers
jeeps, trailers, trios in orange.
Kill those elk, fill that freezer,
maybe something
for the mantelpiece.
We swim concurrent on the highway
in our different streams
– Could they really be nearer
than you?

Play that train again,
I’ll let you know.

A Cool November Night


Well, well, well

There you are. Cool blueberry country. Home of the Stamper family. “Never give an inch.” Milessssss down the road. How ya doin’?, Miss Mobility?