Oklahoma

I want to find you

on a ranch

in the middle of Oklahoma

The tan of your Stetson

the memory of a little girl

looking up into a face

she will forget

I want to find you

with tobacco

on the dashboard

Spice and wood brought

to life by the sun

The smell of summer

of home

I want to find you

in the quiet

when I am finally alone

Hear your voice

through the speaker

of the worn telephone

once more

I want to find you

beside me

with a joke on your tongue

Crow’s feet dancing

at the corners of your eyes

slanted to catch the upturn

of my mouth

I want to find you

in the end

when we return to dust

Great cities buried

by the hands of a clock

just as you were

in the middle of Oklahoma