Laramie

By Timothy David Rey

To tell the truth-
and here I must-
There is not that much to it
Red rock walls
High
that wind their way to Laramie
daring you to enter
The Tumbleweed Express
Bus Stop/Shop/And Trading Post
Cattle that graze
pastoral on the carpet
of green
spotty patches
Rolling
Resting
Ready to meet their Maker in the beatific blue
with a chew of the cud a gaze
upward in pool eyes
for miles and miles just the same
not a house or farm
Nothing
Nothing

And then there are the fences

They are constructed like in the Old Westerns Criss
Cross
making X's in the dirt
Movie-Style
And it is not hard to see
not now
you almost say
Of course

And miles of them
Keeping in and keeping
Out
One might think of Mending Wall

Even the girl at the Tumbleweed rings
true as ticky-tacky Americana behind the counter
fit with feathered Dream Catchers that web their way
to you
sad really
though I cannot pin-point
Why

No
it is not hard to see
how they came upon it
how it hit them
maybe weeks before
perhaps driving

Cruising
the disappearing paths on
Happy Jack Road
while kicking boots
like cloven hoofs
up and down the highway

If your heart must be tugged
let it snag on a fence in Laramie
where his lowly body hung
beat and broken
loosely lame

And if your soul resists
repose
let it lie
in a state of
Laramie
where the Devil sets up shop
for saints and sinners

just the same



Timothy David Rey is a writer and actor who currently lives in Chicago, where he has performed original solo work at venues such as Cafe Voltaire, Homolatte, and the Bailiwick Repertory Theatre. His work has appeared in numerous periodicals including After Hours and Black Child, and he is the recipient of the Most Outstanding Author award from Indiana University's Department of English. Timothy has served as The Annenberg Foundation's Director of Arts Integration programs and has taught in various poetry performance programs including Young Chicago Authors and Words 37.