today, when we left the city

you were commenting
on the little pieces of life that we see
of the people we pass
while on the overpass
that overlooks the Minneapolis skyline
an obese child was skipping
with ungainly joy
and i don't want to mention the obesity
but it made the gladness of her jumps
so pure

we were leaving
out on the open road
headed west toward the crops
of corn and soy
and soy and corn and corn
the wind had the first coolness of autumn
and the last dampness of summer
it made the skin of my arm
feel like a very soft rubber

when we stopped to hike
we took the overlook trail
the trail that nobody wants
because of the two trails you can take
it is the one that goes on, dead-ending
further up the hill

and it doesn't show
its blooming prairie flowers
until you come out into the sun
and the tall grass and the glacial rocks
the bluestem, the prairie turnip, the worn
out coneflowers and the locust
washed against us like a course dry tongue
where we lay at the top facing straight into sky
and i think it wondered
about this little piece of life that was us
and it seemed glad
to see our joy.