Haute Dish The Arts & Literature Magazine of Metropolitan State University red flower
Summer 2005

 

 

 


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Tracks leading to nowhere
Suzanne Nielsen

The ides of March was the day
I read Buzz Potter died
He’d hopped trains
owned mortgage companies
fathered Hobo Times
kept close to his heart
a fistful of hope
a snoot full of wanderlust
and now was off again, riding the clouds.
My imagination went to these thoughts
after reading his obit
until months later out of curiosity
I visited his beloved on Gull Lake
sat in the chair where he created
poetry and looked across the vast lake
listening to his beloved tell stories of his life
his wanderings while petting his cat
as it rested on my lap of the dead man’s chair.
What made me so curious to contact his
grieving love several weeks after his passing
was my own weather beaten wanderlust
so shut off from who I’d become
while racing to do my routine
of wife, mother, teacher
I’d forgotten the importance of losing
myself before finding anything.
I squeezed my fists in rage
on the drive back to the cities
worn down by my own senseless
need to wander.

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