MISTS ON THE ROAD

It is misty and warm, the mountains disappear into mist,
The road disappears into mist, fog people line the roads,
They are swirly, they seem to know the car, they bend themselves
Over its hood, they drift off like veils caught in an updraft,
On days like this anything could come back, anyone, even you.
Not you as you are now, of course not, but you as you were,
Does everyone lose so much time conversing with by gone things,
Conversations with the dead would have more point, perhaps they
Are really somewhere else, Gone Home, whereas you still exist,
On awful days I speak to you, coffin of your former self,
Exhuming with each word a time, a version of my self in that pack
Of cards called Self, but this is the card I keep up my sleeve,
No one knows it's there, I never play it, it's what I see when
People call my name and I don't answer, it's what I see when
The car wheel catches on the shoulder and the car begins to float
Toward the road's edge, I know why people drive off these winding
Roads as if they had somewhere to go down in the woods, straight down,
As if everyone drove a car straight down into the river or the deep
Water below the dam, I should have told you how frightful the river
Water is today, thick cream mixed through with chalky green, the color
Of death pouring over the creekbeds, over the small stones, there are
More dead than there are stones, I saw that some time ago,
It's amazing how much goes, this strange thaw has exposed the leaves,
I picked one up, all the leaf-flesh gone, the outline, though,
Was clear, each vein, each delicate capillary, held to the pale sun
A kind of lace, a frail tatoo against the sky, momentary, if you could
Read my veins, you'd read your name, why did I ever let you in,
Why didn't I know I was a room with no door, by then I should
Have known, people come in but don't go out, never, what a long
Word, what a sound, the last vibrations of an iron gong struck
Hard, I tried to seduce you, I succeeded, exactly like a queen
Lying down with the ruler of an alien army, proud of her skills,
Even as she thinks she's won, the invasion grows complete,
The last fort falls, the boundaries of her country waver,
The maps change, history changes the name of her state,
Asps, asps, who can cry for her? Past, great king, I submit to you,
To you, memory, great sovereign, who swirl these fogs against
The glass, who sing the old songs, as if no time had passed, as if
Somewhere you and I do not lie on our backs, hands clasped over our
Chests, staring up at the ceiling's granite vault, ancient king
And queen, no one remembers them now, why should they, even I don't
often think of them, except on misty days, except in dreams, always
The same dream, You've come back, nothing has gone wrong, nothing ever
will, the dream we began with, beloved animal, I stroke it before it
turns to mist, disappears into the trees. Along this flat stretch
The mists begin to lift, all the way home it will be clear, it is
Amazing, stunning, how we go on, how we get what we want, or said
We want, as if something splendid had not died in our arms, and
Tomorrow will be clear, bright blue, as if no one had ever suffered,
As if no one had ever died.