Well South Country Fair is this weekend and I am writing some new poems and fixing up the old ones and some are just fine the way they are. I was wondering if I could get some feedback? This is a new one.

Roadside Attraction

My memory is impertinent and refuses to believe
the truth. I pull over, driving between Watson
and Melfort. There is the carcass of an airbase,
sleeping in the canola for the last sixty years. The hangar,
built by a flat-footed foreman and farmer’s
wives, angles slowly towards earth.

I remember flying in 1942, practicing destruction,
when a man with Parkinson’s threatened everything.
Aiming at a concrete battery with hot lead
we culled craters into a small moon rising,
the sun dipped below the prairie shoulder.

Along the concrete wall fists fit in the holes
where we executed whole names into the monolith,
if only my memory was static.

At 25, pointed north on #6, from my seat I stretch
my legs, feet hovering above the gravel I hear
planes roar. and remember how it feels to fly.