I think of it as a bloodline, clean thread stretching west,mind emptyingchains, farther from access roads, exits, deeper into sky,that road is why I love this state, despite politics, pronouncements,the boy called Cody in Comstock who wrote me,a year after I visited his class,Basically poetry changed everything,it made me see where I was,could you please come back and stay forever?Finding his letter again thirty years later,looking him up to learn he died young,cowboy hat over his downturned face,I want to say Your roads are still stretching outwards,the fields you walked through,we are here soaking in the mystery of time,trapped in our little houses, scared of a virus,feeling connected through the spaces, all of these new ways,and I remember you.
