Satellite

Beneath a low sky, I boarded the “Empire Builder.”
On Amtrak’s passenger train, I left home crossing over
Two thousand miles anchored only by steel track and gravity.
Crossing an Empire of sky and grass, as if handpicked by my Auntie PK,
I watched the Pacific Northwest climb
Over the Rockies,
melt into Glacier National Park,
Then nearly brushed by the Canadian boarder,
Arriving finally in St. Paul Minnesota.

Passengers on board seemed to settle into their seats quicker than I.
Squirming moderately, I unpacked the essentials a traveler needs at hand;
Camera, journal, stack of books, harmonica in my back pocket,
All there for discovery-
I also kept a gift bag from my lover, with a green boa tied around the handles
Tucked by my feet.
I anticipated that certain moment to sneak up,
When, you simply need a piece of home to rub between fingers.

Watching buildings slowly pass as we left city limits, I began adding up
Eight years I had lived in the Emerald City
I counted the last 10 months as my favorite; they were spent with my lover
Flinging ourselves around the city in wild pursuit
Midnight bike rides across the West Seattle Bridge,
Climbing corporate buildings for the view, collecting goods out of dumpsters,
Hauling a car sized mahogany branch off the beach into my studio before dawn,
Loving bodies, inconspicuously in public parks,
My reflection in the window wore a grin.

Speeding north, our train hugged the shoreline, and I drifted like the waves,
Thoughts of what was ahead; loving relatives to stay with for a few months,
An open road, an open sky.
The train sliced through night air,
And all its secrets gushed.
My ears strained to hear the sounds independently,
Sorted through imagery to match the sounds,
I drifted off to sleep watching night fall.

At midnight we connected with other cars in Spokane.
I traced the stars against the glass,
And asked to be brought into their orbit.
Stars are manifestations of life, the purest light.
I have noticed their power to solicit lumps in my throat,
Perhaps for all the people in my life that I have
Gazed at stars with

. . . ... . .. ... . . . ... . . . . .. .. .
On day two, I met Keith Bear,
A Mandan-Hidatsa storyteller and musician.
The guest artist especially delighted the young boys aboard
With his stories of hunting, the wilderness, and unconditional love.
My heartbeat echoed the boys’ intrigued stares,
After his performance, I led them to meet Mr. Bear,
Took a photo of the pairings, with Mama’s camera.
Their skin bronzed, face glowing
Smiling shy mothers, seated and watched her son's pride grow.

Under a setting sun, I asked Keith Bear to join me for dinner.
Our talk turned to his beaded armbands his sister made for him years ago.
He pointed out the Big Dipper in a sea of bright blue beads.
Grandmother Stars, he said,
Guide you, watch over you.