(This is me being busy.)
(It is still April in poetry land and I still have five more poems to write.)
And the photo is from my nephew. We can call him He Who Knows How Fast A Bee Can’t Fly. Up until recently he ran an engine crew during Montana’s wild fire season. And then he thought how fun it’d be to be a lineman. And I thought I’d lift his photo because of all the metaphors that came to mind.
And then I suddenly felt like Frankie in someone else’s lobby, climbing someone else’s pole, stealing someone else’s photo.
(This is me realizing I won’t ever write a lineman poem. Which means I still have five more poems to write.)
(This is me getting back to work.)