In which I rededicate a poem.

AMERICAN BOY
(tonight, for Trayvon Martin)

Smile. Spills happen. So do gourds and melons.
Horseradish, tomatoes. The wagon’s full.
Mind spills too, belches, drops alluvium,
swallows backwash. Pools. Moves on. Don’t believe
a gourd a day keeps Dr. Dead Wagon
away. Even if I sing it, even

if the thought drowns out the noise with a smile.
This happy song doesn’t want the long moan:
This living’s a strain/ Shovel the coal train/
Try to sleep in a cold rain. Smile. This song’s

trying to look up.

–from Overpass (2012)