Tag Archives: Keep Going Until You Get to the Moon by Rich Boucher

#33 Keep Going Until You Get to the Moon by Rich Boucher

Sixty miles an hour
underneath the gathered stars
that look like the American flag canton
exploded all over the turning sky,
all over San Antonio Road,
I am eastbound,
speeding towards the mountains
so fast
it’s a gift from Santa Maria
that these mountains don’t trip and fall
to meet me halfway,
to crush me,
and these quiet mountains,
these Sandias, as mute
as any statue of a god ever was,
now they spit out the Moon,
lobbing it up into the sky
to light the way I don’t know,
to light my undecided way,
to light some way for me
to take this stolen heap of junk
for a long ride away from her,
away from the one who can hear
the changes in the animal skin
time signature of my own heartbeat;
I am evening daydreaming,
driving and crying
and wondering what will happen
if I stay on this road all night,
wondering if this dark and dirty golden road
could take me all the way up to the Moon.

Rich Boucher’s poems have appeared in Adobe Walls: An Anthology of New Mexico Poetry, Fickle Muses, Grey Sparrow Journal, HyperText, The Malpais Review, Menagerie, Clutching at Straws, Shot Glass Journal, Missive, Sparkbright, The Mas Tequila Review, The Yellow Ham, Borderline and The Legendary. Hear some of his poems at richboucher.bandcamp.com