Spring in Montana means sunburn yesterday, roads closed with snow today.
I keep a coat in the back seat of Derby but realize I wear it only when the temps dip below ten.
This poem was published in the Wilderness House Literary Review.
I don’t have any photos of Tony, but he knows who he is.
Gas Station Guy
Tony, the gas station man,
names our weather. Sometimes I stop
for a quart of oil I don’t need
just to hear him say, “There is a touch of Seattle
in the air today, but tomorrow Phoenix
will blow in.” He shook his head ‘no’ when I asked
if he ever wished he could breathe
the real Pacific air; feel the Arizona heat. The trick
to life, he said, is to like it where you live.
*photo courtesy of my dad: William O’Keefe, April 30, 2010