talking about bluegrass gospel with you made me remember

it was a surprise
(my hillbilly genes overpowered my atheist nature)

this afternoon I walked to the river
didn’t wear orange because I just didn’t feel like
putting myself into that snug fitting orange sweatshirt
on such a heavenly day, everything was just right
socks and boots included
(there I go again, listening to the moans)
didn’t wear orange because I didn’t want to be as
aware of my breasts as that orange sweatshirt makes me
not today when I might get distracted by them
hold them the whole way down to the river
forget to look around
forget to listen
just forget

but this has nothing to do with my breasts or
the orgasms that I had earlier this afternoon
lying in the sun, letting my mind rest
with only the occasional foreign word
(eventually I was still with the book lying over my face -- it left a mark --
my knee in the air and filling bladder so I didn’t slip too far into the rays)
it has to do with what happened
later in the afternoon
after a walk with the dogs
and a brisk walk all my own
while I was sitting on the river bank
in the spot where I’ve been going
to watch, to listen, to throw sticks and stalks into the current

a shot had echoed up the river a little earlier
on this extra day in the deer hunting schedule
and I knew from the feel of the sound that it had traveled a ways to get to me
that the gun was not near me, no fears of being mistaken for a deer
though many, most, times, I practice the quiet walk
the listening walk, deliberate and engaged

after a few pages of notes during which I realized
there is only so much I’ll hear in these waters
I was sitting on the chilly mud and a shot rang out
closer - from this side of the river
I spent some time looking for orange and also a little time
wondering if I could outrun bigfoot and then
cursing my decision not to slip that sweatshirt over my body

knew that I should stop acting like a non-human animal
so I decided to sing
it was a desperate decision, though important

you know, I’ve been working on this for hours
and it must mean there’s something I’m not willing to accept
I’ve been trying to get it out, trying to admit it and
I’ve just walked away from the whole thing over and over
the thing I’m trying to acknowledge
is that when my back was up against the wall
I started singing hillbilly gospel
and it didn’t matter that I couldn’t quite remember the words
or sing the tune