Travelogue

This tree is five hundred years old,
and this boulder is hard proof
of an ancient glacial age,
and you sit there–feigning polite interest.
You wonder why I am taking you on this tour,
pointing out geologic history and
badmouthing the owners of local estates.
Words spill forth like arrows missing their mark,
the horrible misfires of a rank amateur,
and I am too nervous to even take better aim.
You are the only history I seek
to point out to others some future day;
until then I still circle the region,
stealing glimpses, knowing you are the map,
the directions, the reason I move and speak.
As we pass, I note the design diva’s
newly restored guest barn;
I talk on, unable to say anything.

Gary Glauber is a poet, fiction writer, and teacher. His works have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, as well as “Best of the Net.” He is a champion of the underdog who often composes to an obscure power pop soundtrack. His first collection, Small Consolations, is due out in 2015 from The Aldrich Press.