I veer off-course one day as I’m out running errands.
I decide to drive to Yellowstone National Park.
I call and tell my boyfriend:
I’m driving to Yellowstone, so that when we
decide to go together, we’ll know how to get there!
When I’m almost to Yellowstone,
I roll down my window,
The air is arid,
it’s warm outside
I arrive and book into a hotel that’s busy and full
There are suitcases, and children are running a-muck.
I go inside my room,
there is a spectacular view.
I notice two guitars leaning against the wall
and I sit to write a poem about it.
I draw back the curtains.
I want to write about the view:
Taupe plateaus dusted with late spring grass…
Looking out at the view,
I’m shocked to see a yellow-eyed coyote
running down a wide lane of road, coming from the park,
and heading straight for the hotel!
The coyote (pronounced ky-oat) comes in through my open door —
I jump up on the countertop.
A man who works for the hotel comes in and shoos him away
The coyote comes back and again I jump up on the countertop,
again the old man in a red plaid shirt shoos him away
The coyote had wild eyes
He was playful and puppy-like
I sit to write a poem about the coyote.
As I am writing,
I begin to slowly emerge from my dream
Lying on my bed, hands down at my sides,
I can hardly believe I’m not really at Yellowstone!
I can hardly believe that my hands are idle,
that there is no poem, and
there is no coyote.
But I was gonna find out how to get there!
So we could go again, together, soon!
Yellowstone was warm