Looking for Jonathan

Before sunrise

the sky whitened. I said

to myself "Whatever troubles you,

leave it."

Then we're speeding

into the fields,

corn, white houses,

buses at daybreak: the same eyes

we've brought along before.

But the yellow light

looked

in at us: "That discomfiture;

give it here."

O, I knew what

had been planned, but where?

And in whose name?

Non-Fiction, happiest man, ran alongside,

then right-angled "See you-"

into the white woods.

We followed, of course, on foot.

There, various women (some I knew

or had known) were dancing, filling

a clearing.

The pond:

We swam in the old way, lit

the green leaves to grow warm.

Our smoke rose into the sun.

When I saw America, she had danced all night,

she was chalk-white,

leaning on her husband's arm.

I could see

the orange home town, coming.

I leaned honestly

into my own reflection.

I had no more stories of God.