solace in her lap

one laundered sports bra draped over the leather chair,
a damp towel on the linoleum floor,
a gas fire lighting tempered glass,
jazz standards like a fine mist spraying the locked front door,
massaging my neck with slower notes...
a complete memory that simply won't sit still,
tumbling over and over again down an untamed hill.
i heard the 'Midnight Train to Georgia'
in an old El Paso bar;
i kept reaching for her shoulder
but her chair moved just too far.
there were avenues filled with watchers
when the marchers played their game;
i saw the bands approaching,
all the music seemed the same.
a deer skull nailed to a tree trunk
fell at night and broke in two
on a sharp stone in a wind storm.
i knew immediately what to do.
from a tall bridge in New Mexico
over a rift which tore a hole
down below i saw the children
and each one held a soul
and i jumped into their laughter
found the humor and took a nap
saw a woman like my mother
and found solace in her lap.