pick-up truck

let's cut down tree together
& divy up logs between us.
i'll take your neck if you take mine.
the fireplace is hungry 
for a lock of your hair so i stole it
& i hope that's okay. 
you smell like smoke & mint.
cradle is always widening.
will you rattle your ribs with me?
let's work together & check
for bats. who wants to be a farmer 
in their next life? i would like
to drive a red pick-up truck
& sing to bears in the backyard.
i would like to drive the truck
up a mountain with the bed full
of apples ready to spend them 
on the right moon. people would ask
to borrow my pick-up truck 
& i would always lend it to them.
i would tell them to drive 
as far as they could without stopping.
&, months later, they would arrvie
with the truck & a sack of feathers
to repay me (though i'd accept no payment).
truck & i growing old 
in a mountain town. i would keep
my manhood tucked inside 
a little leather notebook. 
taking it out only on rare nights
when i'd need my sturdy face
for scaring ghosts away 
from the edge of the woods. 
some of them would crawl, following me
for a ghost supper in the kitchen at midnight.
empty bowls & empty plates & empty forks.
each enjoying their favorite meal.
they'd praise my truck & dream 
of their own travels. i'd take
many night drives. yellow headlights
painting torsos gold. sleeping 
in the back bed & letting the stars 
bore holes in my skin 
until i was (thankfully) a ghost.
i want to take you far away from here.
we should eat spring onions
dug from dirt. boil some dead leaves
for supper. split a fork between us.
you can have the prongs & i'll
take the stem. engine sputters.
engine asks for a spoonful of sun
or kiss of a true love.
can you hear it all the way
in my next life? tell me, 
what's happening in yours.
do i hear rain or is that a school
of fish? cradle asking for 
another quarter. i'll pay this time.